


You should see the other guy

by GreenQueenofClubs



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Foggy is too good for his own well being, Foggy went to Harvard, Harvard!AU, M/M, Matt needs a hug, Not Columbia, Slow Build, or five
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-26
Updated: 2015-06-01
Packaged: 2018-04-01 08:51:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 20,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4013383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenQueenofClubs/pseuds/GreenQueenofClubs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Foggy Nelson was to be honest with himself, despite all the super heroes running around for years now, he never really thought that he would become best friend with a masked vigilante when he came back to New York, his Harvard Law diploma still fresh from the press.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Welcome to New York

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written for a prompt, by tumblr user firstdrafted who was kind enough to give me permission to write her story!

‘Home sweet home’, thought Foggy Nelson as he dropped the last of his three boxes in the hall of his new apartment. The inside of the room somehow looked both cramped and hauntingly empty. Cramped because he had just graduated, and the only place he could afford was nothing but a glorified broom closet with unreliable electricity and mostly drinkable running water.

  
Empty because once again he had been a broke student a few days prior, and the three boxes that were mostly filled with old textbooks and a few ratty T-shirts represented the entirety of his possessions.  
Foggy sighed, and after rubbing a tired hand over his eyes, decided that the short and depressing task of unpacking his belongings could wait a few hours. The weather was nice and he hadn’t been in Hell’s Kitchen in years. He might as well take a walk, clear his head.

  
It was a little after nine, and while Foggy was aware that being out after dark in this neighbourhood wasn’t the smartest of ideas, he trusted his ‘starving student vibe’ was still strong enough to convince the muggers that he really wasn’t worth the trouble.

  
Hands in his pockets, Foggy walked around for hours, building himself a mental map of corner stores with really cheap ramen, greasy pizzerias that would deliver quickly to his place and seedy dive bars where he could drown his future sorrows and joys, whatever they might be. He considered going in to celebrate moving back in, but he was too poor to splurge on the good stuff and not desperate enough to get smashed on the cheap stuff alone.

  
By the time he got back around to his street, it was almost eleven and Foggy was starting to get immune to the smell of the city. New Yorkers could say what they wanted about Boston, but it definitely didn’t carry an array of odors as interesting as Hell’s Kitchen.

  
Lost as he was in his thoughts, Foggy didn’t notice the shouting and the banging until he was directly in front of the alley from which it was coming. When he did, however, he flattened himself against the wall, peeking around the corner. There were at least three men from what he could see, all pushing each other in their efforts to get to something that was further away, hidden in the shadows.  
Foggy cursed himself for not taking his cell phone with him. He didn’t want to leave to find a phone to call the police, since he wasn’t sure anything actually illegal was happening, and he wanted to be able to help whoever—or whatever—was the target of the three goons.

  
He could hear what they were saying though. They were already patting themselves on the back about ‘taking care’ of the ‘fucker’ that had been ‘fucking up’ their bosses ‘operations’. Foggy had been gone from the city for a long while, but it didn’t take long to understand that the goons weren’t good law abiding citizens –nor Nobel Prize candidates-, and that the other person had been trying to take them down, somehow, for some reasons.

  
Whatever the case, he could do nothing but watch as one of the men was suddenly flung backward with enough strength that his head bounced off the brick wall with a sickening crack. The two others jumped on the shadow, and for a while Foggy couldn’t determine which limbs belonged to which body. Suddenly, though, all three assailants were on the ground, groaning and holding various body parts.  
Finally, the fourth person stepped in view, and Foggy sucked a breath. He was obviously limping, his left leg dragging behind him. His flimsy black shirt stuck to his torso with wet blood in numerous places, and to top it all off, he was wearing the corniest wannabe ninja mask Foggy had ever seen.

  
For a beat, Foggy thought that maybe the goons hadn’t been the bad guys after all; that perhaps this one was. Then his eyes shot to where the three men were still alive, and despite his lack of experience on the subject, Foggy was pretty sure they would be as good as new once healed.

  
Foggy took a fortifying breath, and finally stepped into view, a few feet in front of the limping ninja. The man must really have taken a beating, because he didn’t seem to notice Foggy’s presence, despite the other man standing directly in front of him, until he talked.

  
“Hey, dude, are you alright?” Foggy kept his voice steady and low, feeling anything but.

  
The ninja jumped. His arms were up so fast, Foggy didn’t see them move. The two men stayed frozen like that for a few seconds, the ninja perfectly still and ready to bounce, Foggy as unthreatening as he could make himself, heartbeat racing.

  
Foggy was never one for awkward silences, though, and he cracked first.

  
“Relax, man, I’m not here to steal your shuriken or whatever you ninjas have hidden in those suits of yours.”

  
The other man kept still for another beat, head cocking to the side slightly, before lowering his arms, his body relaxing and seemingly remembering it was, as a matter of fact, injured. He still didn’t speak or utter any kind of sound, however, and Foggy couldn’t help but shuffle awkwardly.

 

  
“Uh, do you want me to find a phone, or something, call the hospital? You look like you could use a hot nurse or two.”  
As soon as he had said hospital, the man started to shake his head, backing off. Foggy was tempted to let him leave, to let this night be over and forget it ever happened. However, the man was obviously hurt, and wasn’t going to get himself checked. Cursing himself, Foggy took a step forward, following the ninja without getting too close.

  
“Right, I guess the whole ‘I wear a mask to beat up people in dark alleys’ doesn’t make you the cops favourite person in the world.”

  
The man stopped, still leery of Foggy, but not about to sprint away either.

  
“I’ve got some cash, and there’s a store just down the corner… I could probably get some stuff to at least patch you up a little…” Foggy kept the suggestion as light as possible, shrugging dismissively for good measure.

  
There was a tense silence, again. Foggy wasn’t sure if he’d rather the man accept his offer or refuse it, but either way, he’d have done his duty, and tried to help him.  
Mama Nelson would be so proud of him.

  
After an eternity and a half, though, the man finally relented and nodded gravely, like he just accepted a death sentence, not an awkward offer to help him from a bumbling stranger. Foggy started bobbing his head just this side of hysterically, feeling completely out of his dept.

  
“Alright, we should probably get away from here, before someone shows up and sees the fuckers. I think there a park or something close, you could wait there while I get what I can.”

  
He started walking toward the park. He heard a shuffling, and suddenly the ninja was walking beside him, along the wall, keeping to the shadows, so that his outfit wasn’t too obvious. Foggy swallowed nervously.

  
“Pretty good act, you’ve got there, buddy. The dark sullen mysterious vigilante. Girls must fall over themselves to get to you…” He was babbling and he knew it, but he needed to fill the silence, or the tension would strangle him.

  
From the corner of his eyes he saw the ninja tilt his head. They got to the park, which was thankfully even closer than Foggy remembered.

  
“You know, the whole good looking well-meaning hero. I mean, I think you’re good looking. The mask makes it hard to tell, but like… All vigilantes look good right? It’s like a prerequisite.”

  
At this point, they had found a bench hidden in a corner, and the ninja had settled himself, staring at Foggy while the man dug a cozy little hole for himself. His head was cocked, and he still looked like he was trying to figure something out, probably how deep Foggy’s idiocy ran. He still did not say a word, however, because apparently he was impervious to the awkwardness that threatened to swallow Foggy. Finding himself an exit, Foggy cleared his throat and gestured to the nearby neon sign of the corner store.

  
“Right… just stay here and you know, don’t move. I’m just going to the store and coming back, so don’t, you know, leave to fight other douchebags just yet.”

  
With that he walked briskly away – he didn’t run, because that would be juvenile and embarrassing- and pondered what he had gotten himself into. He knew that if someone did find out about him helping the ninja dude he would get tried as accomplice, which would be very bad for his budding career.

  
Then again, it was too late now, he couldn’t leave the poor man alone on his park bench, beaten up and probably bleeding out.

  
By the time he got back with his new first aid kit, Foggy was somewhat surprised to see that the man was actually still there, now lying on the bench, looking up at the New York sky, mask still covering his face. When he heard Foggy approaching, he sat back up with some difficulty. Foggy dropped the kit on the bench before clearing his throat again.

  
“Alright, what’s the damage, ninja boy?”

  
The man had started moving, presumably to point to his worst injuries, but interrupted himself, cocking his head again. Foggy shrugged.

  
“Haven’t given me a name, and I don’t feel like calling you dude all night.”

  
The man’s lips curled into an actual smile at that –albeit a small one – and in one smooth motion, removed his shirt.

  
Now, if you had told Foggy five hours ago that his first night out was going to include patching up an injured shirtless dude wearing a mask in a park, well he probably would have believed you, because come on, it’s New York, and prayed for it to be Captain America or something. This guy wasn’t a bad second choice. Foggy bet that if he wasn’t covered in bruises, he’d probably be really, really good looking.

  
“You know, telling me, rather than taking of the shirt like a stripper would have worked just as well, you know. Probably better.”

  
The men just smiled again. It was a really attractive smile, just cocky enough and a smudge coy. Foggy shook his head, and went to inspect the man’s chest. The injuries were mostly bruises, albeit really ugly and painful looking ones, and so he took out the medical ointment he bought, applying it liberally.

  
“You’re taking the strong and silent thing a bit far, ninja boy. Because all I see here are bruises. And I’m sure they hurt like a bitch, but it’s nothing that really needs help. You can show me the big booboo.”

  
With that, the man looked away. Foggy narrowed his eyes at him.

  
“Is there anything bigger than a few bruises?”

  
The man hung his head sheepishly. Foggy leaned back, frowning.

  
“What about the blood? There is definitively blood on the shirt.” Again there was no answer.

  
“It’s not yours, is it?” He got an awkward smile at this. Foggy groaned in answer, and hid his face in his hands.

  
“Of course it isn’t. I’m such an idiot. Fucking ninjas.”

  
The man smiled again, wider this time. Foggy rolled his eyes.

  
“Yeah, yeah, laugh. Why the hell didn’t you flip me off and leave if you didn’t need help?”

  
The man’s smile dropped suddenly, and he looked lost and confused himself for a moment. After a few seconds, he shrugged and smirked self-deprecatingly. Foggy didn’t know what to make of it, but it didn’t seem ill-intended, so he chose to let it slide. After all, if nothing else, if made a good story.

  
That time Foggy Nelson thought a vigilante ninja needed his help.

  
With a groan, he got to his feet, and gathered the first aid kit. After a moment of deliberation, he handed the ointment to the man, who took it with some hesitation.

  
“You’ll need it more than me, ninja boy.”

  
The man smiled at the small tube then at Foggy like it was some kind of awesome present, not some cheap cream from a corner store. Foggy shrugged again, more than a little uncomfortable at this point.

“Well, I guess I’ll be off, then.” He hesitated before stuffing his hands in his pockets to make sure he wasn’t going to do something too familiar, like patting the other man’s shoulder. “You should get some rest, you know, until you’re back to being more pink than blue.”

  
As he spun toward his apartment, he felt a hand on his elbow. He turned easily back around, his eyebrows raised. The other man cleared his throat.

  
“Thank you.”

  
His voice was deep and pleasant, the kind of voice that could soothe people. Before Foggy gathered his thoughts, the man had turned around and walked away.

  
OOOOOOOOO

For a few days afterward, Foggy didn’t have time to think about the man in the mask. He started his internship at Landman and Zach. It wasn’t his dream job, he was more about being a defense attorney, but it paid well enough for him to start paying back his crushing student debt. It wasn’t perfect, but it was good enough.

  
Also, some of his coworkers were, well, interesting. Marci Stahl, in particular, seemed to consider Foggy as one would a very tasty dinner, and Foggy wasn’t sure yet if he was into that or not.  
Being a resident of Hell’s Kitchen and having been raised there, he was quickly assigned to a case for a man named Tully who owned buildings in the neighbourhood. His job so far mostly entailed doing boring research and offering some questionable insight on how people of Hell’s Kitchen thought and felt.

  
His office was even more of broom closet than his apartment, and most people around the firm didn’t seem to ever remember his name no matter how often he told them, but his parents were proud of him, so he was going to roll his sleeves and be so good at his job Landman and Zach would have no choice but to hire him for real.

  
What this meant was that despite having finally done with school, he was still very rarely getting home before dark. He couldn’t exactly resent it, since he knew no one in the city, and his evenings included nothing but staying at home watching movies or TV shows on his laptop.

  
A week after he moved in New York, Foggy left the office around nine, after agreeing to help Marci with research on her own case. He probably should have said no, because that woman already seemed too convinced that he was at her disposal, but on one hand, he was more and more convinced he really wouldn’t mind if it was actually the case, and on the other she was actually really fun to be around, with her sharp intelligence and sharper tongue.

  
Foggy decided to walk home, rather than call a cab. The weather was nice, and after the rain that had drowned the city for the past few days, it felt good to get out and air his brain a bit.  
Foggy had almost reached his building when he heard a commotion coming from an alley. He froze for a moment, unsure of how to react, before he heard a shrill shout that was quickly muffled.  
Clearly someone in that alley was female, and very unhappy of her situation. Foggy grabbed his cell phone from his pocket and dialled the police. His call was answered quickly, and without waiting for the attendant to ask question, and without breathing once, Foggy spewed his location and what basically amounted to “There’s a few big fucking dudes and a girl that’s about to have a really bad night, please help me I’m too squishy for this.” Just as he was panting the last of it, the girl screamed again. Foggy reacted on instinct, hanging up and grabbing a stick from a nearby trash can, stepping into the alley.

Now, Foggy wasn’t stupid, and he knew his fighting repertoire consisted mostly of ‘hit the thing as hard as you can’, but he wasn’t about to stand around and do nothing, waiting for the police to finally show up, or worse, run away.

  
“Hey, Big and Ugly!”

  
The three goons turned around to look at him, two of them holding the girl down, while the other was working on his pants. Foggy swallowed, and tightened his grip on the bat, begging his voice to keep steady.

  
“Are you really so wimpy you need two of you to hold down the hundred and ten pound women?”

  
They all stared at him for a moment before sharing a look. The free one and one of those holding the girl stepped toward him, the other securing the poor soul. Foggy sent a silent apology to his mother for the worry he was about to give her.

  
What none of the people in the alley noticed was the shadow that slipped silently from the roof to the ground. Foggy was so focused on the two men in front of him he didn’t look away until he heard a sharp squeak and a curse.

  
By the time they did become aware of it, the damage had already been done. The third man was down, the young woman curled on herself in the corner, and the man in the mask was already on top of the others, quickly bashing their heads together and adding a few punches for good measure.

  
Foggy didn’t wait for him to be done, instead sliding to the girl, just far enough not to be frightening.

  
“Are you okay? Did they hurt you?”

  
She shook her head shyly, and Foggy wanted to punch the goons himself. She couldn’t be more than fifteen, arms wrapped up around herself and shaking like a leaf.

  
“Are you his sidekick?” Her voice wobbled, and she swallowed with difficulty.

  
“Whose?” Foggy frowned at her.

  
“The ‘Devil of Hell’s Kitchen’.” She jutted her chin toward the ninja.

  
Foggy frowned and turned slightly toward the man, who was done punching and now seemed to be telling the perverts what would happen to them if they threatened anyone ever again. It didn’t sound nice and cuddly.

  
“Is that his name? Uh. And no. Absolutely not. He’s on his own in this.”

  
She nodded, but nevertheless accepted the hand he offered her to stand, her legs shaking a little but otherwise solid.

  
Just as she started walking, the man tensed and growled.

  
“The police are coming.” His voice was just as Foggy remembered, if slightly sharper from the rush of adrenaline.

  
Foggy raised his hand.

  
“I called them. Before you showed up.”

  
The Devil nodded tersely and looked around, as if itching to leave before they arrived, but not wanting to abandon the girl. Foggy cursed silently and waved him off.

  
“Go dude. I’ll stay with her, tell them you came, you kicked ass, you bailed, vini vidi vici style.”

  
The Devil’s mouth slackened momentarily under the same mixture of surprise and confusion that he had shown when Foggy had given him the tube of ointment. He caught himself quickly.

  
“Thank you.”

  
With that he climbed up the balconies with an agility Foggy didn’t know was possible. Just in time, too, because a few seconds after, the police arrived to take in the scene.

  
Apparently the Devil swooping in to the rescue wasn’t unusual, so much so that except having Foggy give a description of the man for them to try and identify him, they mostly left him alone. They called a second car to take the goons away, while the first one brought the girl home.

  
It all lasted about fifteen minutes, and Foggy was convinced the Devil was long gone, which was his excuse for jumping two feet in the air when the man appeared by his side when he was finally walking home.

  
“DUDE! What the hell?”

  
Of course the other said nothing, simply waiting by his side, lips curled up ever so slightly. Foggy sighed, and rubbed the back of his neck.

  
“You need to wear a bell or something.”

  
“That would be counterproductive.” The man huffed what could be considered a laugh.

  
Foggy grimaced at that, because yeah, that would kind of ruin the whole ninja thing.

  
“Lo and behold, he talks.” He smirked.

  
The man looked away.

  
“You heard me talk before.”

  
Foggy rolled his eyes and started walking.

  
“‘Thank you’ and ‘the police is coming’, excuse me for not being informed about your conversation skills.”

  
The man followed him, easily adjusting to his pace. Foggy eyed him from the corner of his eyes.

  
“Do you have some other bruises you need my magic hands for, this time?”

  
“Not that I’m aware of. Why?” The voice was flippant, but artificially so.

  
Foggy rolled his eyes.

  
“Just wondering why you were following me, oh Great Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. Bit of a mouthful, by the way.”

  
The man chuckled.

  
“I didn’t pick it. And I want to make sure you’re safe.”

  
“I’m a big boy, you know. I tie my laces myself and everything.”

  
That got him a wry chuckle.

  
“You’ve been in the city a week, and you’ve been around trouble twice already.”

  
Foggy huffed.

  
“I’ll have you know that neither of those times was I personally in trouble.”

  
The Devil didn’t answer that, but didn’t leave Foggy’s side either.

  
“How do you know I’ve only been here a week?”

  
“You’ve never been around before.” The man shrugged dismissively.

  
“And you know the faces of everyone that lives around here?”

  
The Devil gave a wry chuckle at that.

  
“Something like that.”

  
There was silence as they walked around another corner, before Foggy sighed again.

  
“You really don’t need to come all the way home. I’m fine, I just need a beer and my couch, I swear.”

  
The other man hesitated for a second, suddenly seeming unsure of himself.

  
“I can leave if you want. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

  
Foggy thought about for a second, before shrugging.

  
“I don’t mind, dude, just don’t want you to get out of your way.”

  
The man simply smiled at that. Foggy didn’t say that they were almost there anyway, so it wasn’t like him leaving would make much of a difference. He also didn’t say he really didn’t mind the company.

  
Instead he said “Do you know of any good deli around?”

  
The Devil frowned at him. At least his mouth seemed to.

  
“Deli?”

  
“Half of my family are butchers. It reminds me of my sweet childhood surrounded by pickles and cured meat.” Foggy shrugged.

  
The Devil breathed a laugh at that.

  
“Georges’ two blocks from here is pretty good.”

  
Foggy threw a wide smile at him.

  
“Thanks man.”

  
There was silence again, but for once Foggy wasn’t the one to break it.

  
“What do you do?”

  
“Uh?”

  
“You said half your family are butchers. What do you do?”

  
“I’m a lawyer. The black sheep of the family, if you would believe it.”

  
The Devil nodded, but didn’t comment. It was just as good, because they’d reached Foggy’s building. Foggy stopped, shuffling from feet to feet.

  
“Do you want to come in? I’ve got beer and something edible, probably.”

  
The Devil hesitated, and Foggy was ready to bet he was frowning again.

  
“You wouldn’t have to remove your mask or anything.” Foggy was sure the man was about to say yes – wanted to say yes, but in the end he shook his head.

  
“I can’t.”

  
“Sure. Gotta go save the world.” Foggy nodded wisely.

  
The Devil smiled wryly.

  
“I’d settle for the city.”

  
Foggy didn’t know what to answer, and went for a “Good night”. The Devil returned it to him and with that was gone.

  
OOOOOOOO

  
Two days after, Foggy was sent on behalf of the senior partner assigned to the Tully case to go and meet one of the tenants of Tully’s building, one Ms. Cardenas. From the muffled cursing of the lawyer, Foggy gathered that he also would have the chance of meeting Ms. Cardenas’s lawyer, who was, and Foggy quote “a fucking smug pain in the ass that needs to learn his place”.

  
Foggy wasn’t sure what that entailed for him and this meeting, but he’s willing to give him a shot. After all, all he’d gathered on Ms. Cardenas seemed to indicate she was a pleasant and kind woman. Foggy saw no reason to think whatever caused Ms. Cardenas to seek legal representation – the senior partner was very vague on that front – couldn’t be settle amicably.

  
The lawyer’s office was in Hell’s Kitchen, which made sense, and was rather run down, which while it fitted with the neighbourhood, didn’t give the vibe of importance and foreboding most law offices seemed to exude.

  
Hell, the sign on the door was nothing but a sheet of paper.

  
However, whoever that Matthew Murdock was, he had impeccable taste in receptionists. Foggy cleared his throat to get the attention of the woman. Her head shot up, and she gave him a professional smile, standing up to offer him her hands.

  
“Good morning! You must be Franklin Nelson. I’m Karen Page, M. Murdock’s secretary.”

  
Foggy got the distinct impression that she wasn’t pleased with him, despite her perfectly polished expression, and racked his brain to try and find the reason why she would be so set against him and his firm. Coming back empty handed, he settled for his most charming smile.

  
“Please, call me Foggy. Is M. Murdock in?”

  
“I’m right here.”

  
Foggy turned toward a door he previously had paid no attention to, where now stood a man. A really, really good looking man. Like J. Crew model good looking man.

  
Foggy berated himself to get a grip and stepped toward the man, offering his hand to shake.

  
“Foggy Nelson, pleasure to meet you.”

  
There was a beat of silence before Karen chimed in.

  
“He’s offering his hand to shake.”

  
That was when Foggy’s brain stopped fixating on the man’s ridiculous tantalising mouth and started noticing small details, like the sunglasses the man wore inside or the white cane propped on the wall near where he was standing.

  
‘Good fucking job, Nelson, didn’t even notice he’s blind. Prime example of a lawyer you make.’

  
M. Murdock didn’t seem fazed, and simply smiled politely, offering his hand himself for Foggy to grasp.

  
“Matthew Murdock. I’m Ms. Cardenas representative.”

  
His voice held the same chill that Karen’s did, less subtle, sharper. However, there was also a weird hint of expectancy in his expression that Foggy couldn’t understand. By the time he talked again, it was gone.

  
“Is Ms. Cardenas here?”

  
Murdock nodded and gestured toward the door. Foggy stepped in, and ended up brushing awkwardly against the other man, who didn’t move to give space to Foggy, for some reason. He sat himself in front of the elderly woman, while Murdock took the seat beside her, and Karen went for the end of the table, ready to take notes.

  
“Right, Ms. Cardenas, I’m here to discuss the complaint you filled with us regarding your apartment in one of M. Tully’s buildings. From what I understand, you were offered 10,000 dollars as an incentive to move, and refused, which was of course, well within your rights. However, a few days ago, you filled a complaint stating that Tully was trying to force you to move. Why don’t you tell me more?”

  
Murdock turned to frown at him, mouth pinched.

  
“Aren’t you aware of the problem?”

  
The tone was tightly controlled, like only a trained lawyer could, but there was a bitter undertone to it, like Murdock was somehow disappointed. Foggy didn’t let it unsettle him, despite how out of place it seemed. He was also not about to tell anyone in the room that his boss cared so little about the situation that he gave only a very foggy –hey- description of the situation before throwing him out to take care of it. He simply smiled pleasantly.

  
“Yes, but I believe in hearing it first hand from the victim, as to answer to the issue as efficiently as possible.”

  
Murdock only raised an eyebrow, and turned to Karen.

  
“Please read Ms. Cardenas deposition to him.”

  
“Excuse me, M. Murdock, but I would like to hear from Ms. Cardenas.” Foggy frowned at him.

  
The old woman stayed silent, her dark eyes assessing Foggy. Murdock’s expression shifted into a charming smile that wasn’t attractive at all, because that wouldn’t be fair.

  
“Unless you can understand Spanish, M. Nelson, I don’t believe a direct testimony from Ms. Cardenas would be very useful to you. Why don’t you let us handle it?”

  
Foggy was taken aback by this, and after a few seconds of trying to figure a rebuttal to this, was forced to admit that he didn’t, in fact, speak Spanish. His silence was apparently telling, because the other man’s mouth quirked up even higher, not mocking but not pleasant either. Foggy felt his stomach flop, and he waved to Karen to read.

  
“A week ago, some of Tully’s man came to do renovations in my apartment, even though I hadn’t requested any. About two hours in, they left, after having disconnected the power, stopped the water and done a few holes in the wall, which they didn’t repair. They had sledge hammers, and I wasn’t able to make them leave until after the deed.”

  
With that Karen stopped reading. Murdock took a stack of paper, which he handed to Foggy.

  
“We went to Ms. Cardenas’s apartment and these are the damages we cataloged.”

  
Foggy took the list, cursing his boss for not having prepared him better. Thankfully, he had been working this case long enough to know the basics.

  
“Ms. Cardenas, while this is a regrettable situation, for which I am terribly sorry, I know that your building and those surrounding often houses very unsavoury characters, prone to substance abuse and violence. How are you sure that they were not the ones that wrecked your apartment?”

  
The woman started talking in rapid fire Spanish. She might not speak it, but she seemed to understand English well enough. When she was done, Murdock translated smoothly. Because of course he could speak Spanish.

  
“She says they presented themselves as Tully’s employees.”

  
Foggy smiled gently at her.

  
“While that may be true, Ms. Cardenas, just because they said so doesn’t mean they were. Do you have any proof, any license, or permit, anything to tie them to Mr. Tully?”

  
She looked in confusion to Murdock, who translated the few words that escaped her, but she shook her head dejectedly. Foggy nodded gravely.

  
“See? The more probable scenario is that they were hoodlums that used Mr. Tully’s name to force their way into your house.”

  
“If they were not related to the events, why wouldn’t Mr. Tully answer when Ms. Cardenas called him regarding the situation? I might add, while obligated by contract to keep their apartment in living conditions?”

Murdock piped in with a voice so smooth and reasonable, it would be soothing if it wasn’t irritating Foggy so much.

  
“The contract doesn’t obligate Mr. Tully to do anything of the sort if his workers feel their safety are in play. As it is, numerous complaints have been filled regarding the aforementioned criminal elements, and this will have to be dealt with before any other actions can be dealt with.”

  
Murdock finally lost his smile, replaced by a cocked eyebrow.

  
“So you deny that Mr. Tully had any implication in the affair.”

  
“We do.”

  
“And of course, you also deny that it was done to try and force the tenants out of their apartment.” Murdock huffed, with a mirthless smirk.

  
Foggy simply cocked his head.

  
“Was it stated, at any point, that the wreckers had that goal?”

  
“No, but if the apartments aren’t in living condition, the tenants are more likely to leave, which is what Mr. Tully wants. Especially since he refuses to repair the damages.”

  
Foggy refused to rise to the bait, conjuring his most charming smile to match Murdock’s smirk.

  
“The fact that the situation could eventually benefits Mr. Tully proves nothing, even less that he was involved in any way in wrecking Ms. Cardenas’s home. Furthermore, his refusal of helping is borne out of concern for his employees, and therefore perfectly legal, and will prove, again, nothing, especially in a court of law.”

  
However, once his tirade was over, and he snapped out of the lawyer haze that came when he was delivering an argument, he saw Ms. Cardenas dejected expression. He felt bile rise to his throat. Regardless of whether or not his client was involved into this mess, the poor lady had to suffer because of things outside her control. He softened his voice.

  
“I’m sorry, once again Ms. Cardenas, for what happened to you.”

  
Murdock pinches his lips.

  
“I think we’ve done all we can for today. Karen, can you please see Ms. Cardenas home?”

  
Karen nodded, immediately on her feet, helping Ms. Cardenas out of her seat and out of the office, a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Foggy stayed where he was, since Murdock was doing the same. After a moment, the man spoke, the cocky smirk still on his lips.

  
“Do you really believe this is all a coincidence? That Tully truly had nothing to do with it?”

  
Foggy didn’t miss the slight condescension in Murdock voice, and coupled with the smirk, it made Foggy want to hit him. Or kiss him.

  
Probably bit of both.

  
“It doesn’t matter what I believe. I’m here to look at the facts. And the facts are not pointing the same way Ms. Cardenas is.”

  
With that he rose, making for the door. Murdock did the same, and with far more speed and accuracy than Foggy thought a blind guy could possess went to park himself in front of the door, blocking it just before Foggy could cross it. The movement left them about two feet apart, far too close for Foggy’s comfort. Especially since he still wanted to kiss Murdock a little. It didn’t seem to bother Murdock, though, his cocky smile holding firm while he spoke with absolute and complete conviction.

  
“Then we are going to keep digging. And once we have all the facts we need, we’re going to drag Tully into the light, kicking and screaming if we need to, and we will force him to apologize to everyone he’s bullied and repair all the damages he’s done.”

  
Foggy didn’t back off.

  
“Good luck with that, buddy. I really hope you’re as good as you think you are.”

  
Murdock smile widened into something predatory, and leaned a little.

  
“I am.”

  
With that, he finally stepped aside and let Foggy leave the building, feeling far too flustered and a bit sick.

  
OOOOOOOOO

 

The same night, Foggy decided to climb to the roof of his apartment. He always knew he was allowed to go there, knew that most of his neighbours did, but he never felt like it. Tonight, though, his apartment turned him claustrophobic, and with his luck if he went out to take a stroll he’d walk into a bank robbing, or something similarly bad.

  
So he sat in one of the plastic chairs, looking up at the few stars visible through the glare of the city for hours. He knew there was something fishy about the Tully case, no matter what he said to Asshole Murdock. He also knew that there was nothing he could do about it. He worked for Landman and Zach, who worked for Tully, and even if he told them to go fuck themselves, he wouldn’t have any power to make a difference. He’d be alone and unemployed and helpless.

  
“You seem troubled.”

  
Foggy jumped out of his chair, spun around and effectively fell on his ass. He looked up at the Devil, who appeared concerned. At least his mouth did.

  
“Sorry about that.”

  
“I’m going to put a bell on you, I swear.” Foggy sighed.

  
The Devil smiled and offered his hands to him. Foggy took it gratefully, and couldn’t help but admire the Devil’s strength as he tugged him up.

  
They stood awkwardly for a few seconds, before Foggy gestured to the chairs.

  
“Do you want to sit?”

  
The Devil hesitated and finally nodded, sitting down beside Foggy.

  
“I’d offer you a beer, man, but I don’t have any. You should have called ahead.”

  
“I’ll remember that.” He chuckled.

  
Foggy waited for a moment, but to no avail.

  
“Not that I mind, but why are you here? You don’t seem too hurt.”

  
The Devil stared at him before shaking his head.

  
“No, I’m fine. It’s a calm night.”

  
“So there are actually some of those? No murder, no theft, no rape? My, must be Christmas.”

  
“Sometimes. Even assholes hate Mondays.” The Devil huffed a laugh.

  
Foggy chuckled with him.

  
“Nice to know Mondays are universal. You still haven’t told me what you’re doing here.”

  
The Devil shrugged.

  
“I was around, and you were on the roof. You’ve never been before. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  
Foggy nodded, mouth opening and closing soundlessly, before shrugging helplessly and sighing.

  
“I’m fine, it’s just my case eating at me.”

  
The Devil turned his head sharply to look at him, and Foggy could swear felt his stare through the mask.

  
“What’s the problem with it?”

  
Foggy debated telling him or not, but in the end decided to go for it. God forbid, but he needed to talk about it, and the guy was the closest thing to a friend he had outside of work at this point. Yes, he was aware of how pathetic that was. The point remained. And who knew, perhaps the Devil could use his ninja skills to find the people responsible or something. Do what Foggy couldn’t.

  
“One of my client’s tenants has problems with her apartment. Someone came in, put holes in the walls, and cut the power and the water. She claims it was my clients’ people. Either way my client won’t repair the damages for some bullshit reason.”

  
The Devil seemed to ponder on it for a moment before speaking in a soft voice, almost shy and expectant.

  
“You think your client did it?”

  
Foggy closed his eyes.

  
“I don’t know. Maybe. He would have good reasons to. He looks like he could, too. But I can’t do anything about it. I can’t take action against them while I work for them, can’t do anything if I don’t. Anyway, it’s more about the people who are stuck in the middle. I feel bad for them.”

  
“Don’t they have lawyers to help them?” The Devil asked with a restrained voice.

  
Foggy snorted.

  
“Yeah. One cocky fucker of a lawyer. He’s an ass, but I really hope he’s as good as he thinks and sounds, and that he can actually help them at least get their places back in order.”

  
The Devil looked away, but Foggy could swear he saw him smiling.

  
“And don’t you want to help him? Help them?” Yeah, there’s definitely amusement in his voice.

  
Foggy shook his head with another snort.

  
“Of course I’d like to be a hero, Oh Great Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. But there’s nothing I can do for them, short of sabotaging my own case, which would be career suicide. And then I’d be completely useless.”

  
The Devil said nothing for a few minutes, and Foggy was more than happy to let him mull it over. Hell, maybe he’d find a solution to Foggy’s problem he hadn’t seen yet.

  
“Maybe you could help me, then?”

  
Foggy turned his head to look at him, frowning, giving him a sharp onceover.

  
“So you do have bruises you need my Magic Healing Hands for. I knew you wanted me for my body.”

  
The man actually laughed at that, a real laugh that shakes his body. Foggy couldn’t help but join in. They needed some time before either of them can talk.

  
“No, no, not that they weren’t appreciated. I mean, as a man of the law.”

  
“Man of the law. I like that. Sounds so much better than attorney. Correct me if I’m wrong, though, but don’t vigilantes make a point of working outside the law?”

  
The Devil ducked his head.

  
“It’s not for me, per say. For a while, I’ve been chasing after the head of the main criminal organisation in Hell’s Kitchen. No matter what I do, who I talk to, where I look, I can’t find anything on the man. I only know his name, and even that was almost impossible to get. I thought maybe you could help me with him. Research and such things.”

  
Foggy pondered over that for a while. Then he nodded.

  
“Cutting the head of the snake. Smart. At least I can try. I make no promises, but I’ll look around.”

  
“His name is Wilson Fisk.”

  
“Wilson Fisk. Poor man. Anyway, like I said, I’ll look into it.”

  
The Devil turned to look at him for a long time, before his lips stretched into a wide smile.

  
“Thank you.”

  
The words were so heartfelt, so full of relief, and the smile was so gorgeous, Foggy couldn’t help but blush and look away.

  
“Don’t worry about it, dude. It’ll make me feel better, and all. It’ll be nice to be able to look at myself in the mirror again. I miss my gorgeous face.”

  
That startled another laugh out of the vigilante. Foggy leaned back in the chair, feeling better than an hour before, therefore his exhaustion finally caught up to him. He stifled a yawn, but the Devil noticed. He stood up.

  
“You should go and get some sleep.”

  
Foggy nodded and followed suit. He apparently had miscalculated, and found himself almost plastered to the Devil. In his attempts not to press himself to his chest, he unbalanced himself even more, and almost fell back on the ground.

  
The Devil caught him by the arm and steadied him. There wasn’t more than a few inches of air between them, and the other man’s hand was still around his arm, but neither moved.

  
It wasn’t awkward. It wasn’t weirdly intense or passionate either. However, Foggy felt more grounded than he had in a long time, more stable.

  
The Devil opened his mouth, but seemed to think better of it, simply squeezing Foggy’s bicep before letting him go, and disappearing over the edge of the building.

  
Foggy slept surprisingly well that night.

  
OOOOOOOOO

 

“NELSON!”

  
Foggy jumped at the shout, hastily closing the windows on his computer just in time as the senior attorney in charge of Tully’s case barged in his office. He had been researching Wilson Fisk as he had told the Devil he would, and he didn’t think his bosses would approve.

  
“Yes?”

  
The man was glaring, but Foggy still wasn’t sure if this was about him or not.

  
“You’re the one who went to handle Ms. Carenos’s case, right?”

  
Foggy frowned.

  
“Ms. Cardenas, yes. Why?”

  
“You told me it was handled.”

  
“It was. They don’t have any way to prove Tully was linked.”

  
The man huffed and sneered.

  
“Well apparently they found some proof. The lawyer and his bimbo are downstairs, delivering some kind of ultimatum. Take care of it.”

  
Foggy wanted to protest over the bimbo comment, but the man was already tearing out. He was getting up and gathering what he needed when Marci popped her head in.

  
“Is this about the two super models hanging out in our lobby looking all smug and good enough to eat?”

  
Foggy glared at her.

  
“Stay away from them, Marci, they are working against us.”

  
She huffed and flopped her hair around.

  
“Cases don’t last forever, Foggy Bear. Tell you what, I take the blond angel, and you get blind Beauty.”

  
“I’m pretty sure that’s offensive” is all Foggy can think to say at the moment.

  
It wasn’t until he was half way down that he realized he probably should have denied his attraction to Matthew Murdock.

  
Not that Marci would have believed him, but plausible deniability was always useful.

  
Once he stepped in the lobby, he immediately spotted Karen and Murdock. The former seemed in awe of the building – definitely fancier than her own office – while the latter simply looked smug, with the same infuriatingly hot cocky smile.

  
Foggy plastered a smile over his face, reminding himself that no matter how much the asshole got on his nerves, he actually wanted him to win for the sake of Ms. Cardenas. He offered his hand to Karen, and waited for Murdock to do the same.

  
“Miss Page, Mr. Murdock. I have to say I am surprised to see the both of you again so soon.”

  
Karen simply looked over at her boss, while he smirked a little wider.

  
“We have been able to identify the two workers who came to Ms. Cardenas home, thanks to her testimony and those of other tenants. Both of them are employed by Mr. Tully, and were at the time of the incident.”

  
Foggy’s eyebrow shot up. That would be a difficult argument to counter in court, if proven right.

  
“And you found all this since yesterday morning.”

  
Murdock’s smile was a brilliant one, again with a touch of eagerness Foggy couldn’t understand.

  
“I told you I was good.”

  
Foggy took a deep breathe.

  
“However, even if it’s true, given that you only have eye witness to support your evidence-“

  
“Seven eye witnesses, all giving corresponding testimonies.”

  
“Eye witnesses all the same, who could have communicated beforehand to agree on a story, given the delay before a complaint was filed. It’s still not foolproof evidence, Mr. Murdock.”

  
The other man nodded once, conceding the point, but his smile never faltered.

  
“True. But it’s enough to warrant a trial, and it’s enough to cast doubt over your client. Possibly even win. Is Mr. Tully really ready to take that risk?”

  
He sounded so reasonable, so sure of himself and his arguments. Foggy hated him for it.

  
“That’s for him to decide.”

  
Murdock nodded genially.

  
“Of course it is. But he should be aware that Ms. Cardenas and the other tenants are ready to drop all charges if Mr. Tully simply repairs the damages in all the apartments and signs a contract where he’ll swear never to attempt to get them out of his building again.”

  
Foggy didn’t let his smile slip away but it was a huge effort.

  
“I’ll make sure to let him know.”

  
Murdock nodded again and put his cane back on the floor, visibly preparing to leave, sure he won his point.

  
“You do that. Please contact us when he makes his decision. You have our number.”

  
With that, they both leave. Just as they are about to exit, Murdock turned and shot a smile at Foggy that couldn’t be described as anything but charming, with no trace of the cockiness from previously. Foggy didn’t let his face change – not that it’d matter much, Karen’s back was to him and Murdock was blind – but he couldn’t keep the blush off his cheeks or his heart from skipping.

  
He was only human after all, and he couldn’t think of anyone who smiled at him like this in his life, even less an extremely smart and attractive lawyer, all cocky and assholish that he could be.

  
When Foggy relayed what had transpired to the senior attorney, and while he stayed in the room while he called Tully, he couldn’t help but cheer internally, for the sake of Ms. Cardenas.

  
OOOOOOOOOO

 

A few days later, Foggy was enjoying one of his rare nights off. He had gotten home before dark for the first time in days, and celebrated by actually cooking himself supper, rather than buying take out. Spaghetti and meat balls wasn’t anything too fancy, but it was his mother’s recipe, and he made enough to have another few dinners out of it.

  
He had just finished actually eating his meal, drinking the last drops of his beer when he heard a crash outside his window. He jumped to it, heart racing. Despite being on the third floor, he could see a dark shape dragging itself out of the dumpster –for once thankful for his apartment subpar view. After a short debate, he decided to go down and see who it was.

  
The shape was familiar enough for him to be worried, and even if it wasn’t the Devil, whoever it could be looked in bad enough shape that Foggy could probably handle them.

  
However, when he actually got down, he recognized him without trouble. The Devil was curled up behind the garbage bin, not visible to anyone not actively looking for him. His shirt was sliced open in a few places and he was very obviously bleeding out.

  
Foggy wasn’t even sure he was conscious until he got next to him and tried to touch him. That got him a reaction, a weak, completely off target punch and a feeble “ ‘n’t touch me.”

  
He put a calming hand on the Devil’s shoulder.

  
“Easy there, buddy. Don’t hurt yourself even more.”

  
There was a beat of silence.

  
“F’gy?”

  
He sighed in relief.

  
“Yeah, it’s Foggy, don’t worry buddy.”

  
He looked him over again, grimacing at the cuts, most of which looked pretty deep.

  
“Hospital still out of the question? Because you could seriously use it.”

  
The Devil wrestled weakly at this.

  
“No ‘spital.”

  
Foggy sighed and nodded.

  
“Alright, fair enough, come on, you’re coming with me.”

  
Now that he was satisfied that the authorities weren’t getting alerted, the Devil went easily enough. He tried to help as much as he could, but most of his weight still rested on Foggy. Thankfully the elevator was working that night, or Foggy wouldn’t have made it home.

  
Once they were in, Foggy set the man on his couch, only a fleeting thought going to the fact he would probably have to burn it afterward.

  
“Don’t move, I’ll get what I need.”

  
He went to the bathroom to get his first aid kit and came back. He gave the man a once over.

  
“I haven’t got much in term of pain killers, but you should at least take a couple Advils.”

  
The Devil nodded and extended his arm. Foggy dropped two pills in his waiting hand, and watched him swallow them.

  
“I need your shirt and your pants off. Can you remove them?”

  
The Devil tried to move, but eventually came to the conclusion that it wasn’t possible. Foggy sighed.

  
“Okay, well I can work your pants off, but I’ll need to cut your shirt, so I hope you’re not too attached to it.”

  
The Devil waved a hand, which Foggy took as a go ahead. He set to work and soon had an almost naked vigilante in front of him. His legs were mostly fine, some bad bruising, but no cuts and no obvious broken bones. His torso however…

  
“Dude, you look like ground beef.”

  
“Should see ‘ther guy.” The Devil huffed, which Foggy took to be the closest thing to a laugh he could muster.

  
Foggy shook his head.

  
“If that’s what the winning side looks like, I’d rather not, thank you very much.”

  
With that, he started disinfecting all the cuts. The Devil never flinched or made a sound, simply laying there taking it. Finally, Foggy couldn’t take the heavy, painful silence anymore, and he started babbling.

  
“Did you know I was raised here, in Hell’s Kitchen? Lived here in until I was twelve, I think. I loved this place, I was heartbroken when we had to leave. It’s ironic you know. My family moved to New Jersey because Hell’s Kitchen was getting too expensive. All that gentrification bullshit.”

  
While he talked, he finished cleaning up the cuts. He applied bandage to all of them except two, one over the ribs and another slashing across his pecs, who needed sutures. Foggy tried to remember everything he knew about sewing flesh while he threaded his needle, never stopping talking.

  
“And now, when I move back to New York from Boston with my fancy degree, I have to live in Hell’s Kitchen, because it’s back to being the cheapest place in the city. I wasn’t too broken down or anything, like I said, I love the place, it’s just… ironic, I guess. Maybe I should send a letter of thanks to the Avengers.”

  
For a moment he paused, finishing his first suture, momentarily out of things to say.

  
The Devil reached down and lightly ran a finger over the suture.

  
“You’re good at this.”

  
Foggy nodded, starting on the second cut.

  
“Told you I had Magic Healing Hands.”

  
“How did a lawyer end up with Magic Healing Hands?” The Devil huffed again, a small smile tugging at his lips, the pain killers slowly kicking in.

  
Foggy smiled and shrugged.

  
“Took a first aid class in college.”

  
There was a beat of silence.

  
“There was a girl, right?”

  
Foggy blushed.

  
“Shut up.”

  
The Devil laughed before wincing, but didn’t stop smiling. Foggy thought to himself that no guy with that many cuts and bruises had the right to be so fucking chipper. It didn’t seem to stop The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, though.

  
“Was she hot?”

  
Foggy endured a beat of silence again before hanging his head and sighing.

  
“She was so hot, buddy, you can’t imagine.”

  
The Devil fucking giggled, and patted Foggy lightly on the shoulder.

  
“Well, I’m grateful to the Unnamed Beauty for the gift of your Magical Healing Hands.”

  
Foggy snorted, barely keeping his hands from tugging on the thread. He raised his head to stare at the man who was smiling proudly beneath the mask.

  
“You are a fucking dork.”

  
The Devil chuckled weakly again while shaking his head unconvincingly.

  
“That is a very arbitrary assumption.”

  
Foggy went back to work, still smiling like a loon.

  
“No, no, no, I’ve got you all figured out. This whole thing, the mask, the dark clothes, the ninja moves, beating up people in dark alleys, the fucking nickname – seriously, the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen?, it’s all one big plan to hide the fact that you are a fucking dork.”

  
Foggy finished his sewing and lifted his head to look at the other man who opened and closed his mouths a couple of time, trying to find something to answer to that, before sagging further into the cushions in defeat.

  
“I don’t disagree with anything you’re saying.”

  
Foggy couldn’t help but burst out laughing at that, followed by the Devil. Here he was, having his first real laugh in weeks in the middle of the night, patching up a vigilante who someone used to sharpen their knives and who might just be his friend.

  
He stood up, shaking his head.

  
“How are you so cheerful? You look like roadkill.”

  
The Devil shrugged, not losing his goofy smile.

  
“I’ve got painkillers and good company. As long as I don’t have to move, I’ll be fine.”

  
Foggy stared at him.

  
“Don’t worry about it, you can crash here for a while. You have insane pain tolerance, dude. I stub my toe and I whine about it for the next day.”

  
“Runs in the family.”

  
Foggy stared at him, choosing not to mention he didn’t know anything about the Devil, not even his name, and definitely not his family.

  
“Uh. Want something to drink? Some water can’t hurt, you lost a butt load of blood.”

  
The Devil nodded.

  
Foggy came back with the two glasses, handing the Devil his and settling on the other hand of the couch, watching the man. There’s a short silence while both of them sip their drink, savouring the calm after the storm.

  
“Why were you in Boston?”

  
Foggy’s unfocused staring zeroed back on the man, and he frowned.

  
“Uh?”

  
The Devil gestured with his glass.

  
“You said your family moved to New Jersey, but then you said you lived in Boston before moving back to New York.”

  
Foggy hummed.

  
“So you were paying attention. I thought you were out of it.”

  
“I’m a good listener.” The way he said it and the small smile that came with it hinted at some kind of inside joke Foggy wasn’t in on. “You have a very nice voice.” He added after a beat.

  
Foggy laughed at that, blushing slightly.

  
“Aaw, thanks dude. And I was in Boston to study. You have in front of you a real Harvard Law alumni. You should be impressed.”

  
The Devil smiled at him softly.

  
“I am suitably impressed, believe me. Why did you choose Harvard?”

  
Foggy shrugged.

  
“Because they accepted me? I mean, so did Columbia, and I really hesitated between the two, but at the end, I felt I needed to get out, get away from this city and explore a bit. I know it’s a bit silly, Cambridge is like four hours away from New York, but anyway…”

  
The Devil nodded.

  
“I get it. Sometimes you need to step back a little to make sense of things.”

  
“Have you ever?”

  
“Left New York?”

  
“Hmh.”

  
“No. Never got the chance.”

  
Foggy reached out of patted his knee softly. Now that everything was calming down, the least polite part of Foggy’s brain caught up to the fact that there was a very attractive man mostly naked on his couch. No wanting to make things awkward when The Devil was just getting comfortable around him, him looked away, fidgeting with his now empty glass.

  
Then something struck him.

  
“How do you know my name?”

  
The Devil looked sharply up at him.

  
“What do you mean?”

  
“I never told you my name, since you never gave me yours. But when I found you earlier, you called me Foggy.”

  
The Devil looked away, obviously ill at ease.

  
“The night when we helped that girl. You told your name to the police, with your deposition.”

  
Foggy stared at him.

  
“How could you hear that? You weren’t anywhere close to us! I saw you climb on the roof!”

  
The Devil swallowed, tightening his grip on his glass.

  
“I was on the roof. My hearing, it’s… more delicate than most.”

  
Foggy blinked at him, not sure how to process the information.

  
“You heard me talk in a low voice from at least thirty feet away, over the sounds of the police officers and the regular New York noises.”

  
The Devil nodded.

  
“What can you hear? What’s the limit?”

  
The Devil cocked his head toward him, like he was assessing his reactions.

  
“If I’m close enough, or if I’m used enough to someone, I can hear their heart beats, their bones shift, their blood flowing.”

  
Foggy choked on air, eyes wide.

  
“Dude, that’s crazy! And invasive!”

  
The other man hung his head.

  
“I’m sorry. I try to cut it off, ignore it unless I need it, but I can’t always help it. Especially when I’m somewhat close to someone.”

  
Foggy swallowed.

  
“How close are you to me?”

  
The man tensed, as if bracing for a hit.

  
“Enough.”

  
Foggy fell back on the cushions, mind whirling. The Devil was still tense, looking like he would bolt the second Foggy gave him a reason to. He forced himself to speak.

  
“It’s okay, dude, I won’t flip out on you, or anything.”

  
The Devil made a disbelieving sound.

  
“You should flip out! I just told you I hear your heart beat! And I didn’t tell you! Do you know what that means?”

  
Foggy frowned.

  
“No?”

  
The Devil sighed.

  
“It means I know when you lie, when you’re having an emotion, fear, anger, joy...”

  
Foggy blinked a few time before sighing.

  
“Okay, well that’s a bit worse, but again, it’s not like you can help it.”

  
“Why are you taking this so well?”

  
“Because at this point I’ve accepted that you are a vigilante that goes out at night wearing a corny mask? We live in the era of Captain America, Hulk and Thor, buddy. Super hearing isn’t that much of a stretch. It’s not like you’ve been hiding this from me for years, we’ve known each for a few weeks tops.”

  
There was a long silence that Foggy almost couldn’t bear, because he could see the Devil was still tense enough to snap. So he stretched a leg to nudge his with his foot.

  
“Anyway, the super hearing shit doesn’t change that you’re a fucking dork.”

  
The Devil snorted a laugh, finally relaxing into the cushions. That silence was much more comfortable, and Foggy was happy to let it stretch. The other apparently wasn’t.

  
“Can I ask you a question?”

  
“Sure, what the hell.”

  
“Why are you helping me? Why did you help me that first night?”

  
Foggy sighed, reflecting on his answer.

  
“I heard the assholes talking, about how you were ruining their bosses’ business and shit. And you know, told you, I was raised here. I love this shit hole, but it’s still a shit hole sometimes. And I wanted to, when I was a kid, go out and kick the bad guys’ asses. I never could have, I was the chubby kid, and I haven’t an athletic bone in my body. But I wanted to help. That’s why I became a lawyer. To help the people against the bad guy.”

  
“And now you work for corporations against the small people.”

  
Foggy snorted a bitter self-deprecating laugh.

  
“Yeah. How the mighty have fallen. Anyway, when I saw you in the alley doing what I always wanted to be able to do, I thought the least I could do was give you a helping hand. Which you didn’t need, you asshole.”

  
The Devil shrugged.

  
“How could I refuse such a concerned and genuine offer?”

  
Foggy frowned than groaned.

  
“You listened to my heartbeat. That’s why you went along.”

  
The Devil didn’t answer, and didn’t need to. Foggy laughed again, rubbing his hand over his eyes, before sobering up.

  
“Why did you tell me, about the super hearing and stuff? Not that I mind that you did, it’s just you didn’t look comfortable so…”

  
“I’m not. Comfortable. I just felt it was fair. I know who you are, your name, where you live. I know so much about you because you just told me, and I can’t say anything about me… I felt it wasn’t fair that you trusted me with so much, and I gave nothing back.”

  
Foggy nodded before giggling.

  
“Look at us, having a fucking slumber party, pouring out our heart, being all touching and shit. This is middle school bullshit.”

  
The Devil giggled.

  
“I’m a bit high, so that helps.”

  
Foggy swatted his knee.

  
“You’ve had two Advils, you can’t possibly be that much of a light weight.”

  
The Devil chose not to answer, pushing Foggy’s shoulder playfully.

  
“And I’m pretty sure slumber parties don’t involve one participant being stitched up in his underwear.”

  
Foggy laughed.

  
“I don’t know, my sister’s parties were pretty fucking intense. One time, one of her friend decided to scare her by jumping on her and screaming. She broke her nose and sent another girl flying down the stairs. It was all very dramatic.”

  
The Devil snorted very unattractively. Despite the good company, Foggy found himself drifting more and more. The other man shook him awake lightly. Foggy groaned at him.

  
“You should go to bed.”

  
“What about you? I can’t leave you alone.”

  
“I’ll sleep on the couch, I’ll be fine.”

  
“I can’t make you sleep on the couch, you’re hurt.”

  
“The couch is fine, I’ve already bled on it. I don’t want to stain your bed too.”

  
Foggy was too tired to really argue about it, and got to his feet. He brought a blanket and pillows to the Devil, before heading to his bedroom. He stopped just before closing the door.

  
“Will you still be there tomorrow?”

  
“Probably not.”

  
He nodded, not really surprised.

  
“Okay. Try and stay safe, and you know, drop in in a few days, so that I know you’re fine and all.”

  
“I will.”

  
Foggy slipped into restless dreams.

  
He wasn’t surprised to find his apartment empty the following morning.


	2. Welcome home

The next few days were uneventful, as the Devil laid low and his case was somewhat on hold while they waited for Tully to come to a decision.

 

Foggy didn’t mind, though. It gave him plenty of time to work on his side project. He had been unable to find anything on Wilson Fisk through the conventional channels, which wasn’t entirely surprising. The Devil wouldn’t have needed his help if the information he needed was readily available. So, on an off chance that he might have intersected with one of their old cases, he entered the name into Landman and Zach’s database, after making sure it couldn’t be traced back to him. Nothing popped up at first, but college had been a great education on finding things he wasn’t necessarily supposed to have access to.

 

It turned out that Landman and Zach had a lot of information on Wilson Fisk. It also appeared it was restricted to a very limited number of people, none of which was Foggy. It was too protected for him to trick his way to it.

 

“Nelson!”

 

Foggy looked up at the senior partner at the door of his office.

 

“You’ve been to the office of this Murdock guy, right?”

 

Foggy nodded, dreading the rest of the sentence.

 

“You’re going back, you need to bring them Tully’s proposition.”

 

Foggy hadn’t known Tully had already made his decision, but then again Foggy was only kept aware of what he strictly needed to know, which didn’t seem to be much.

 

He nodded and took the bundle of documents, heading out the door.

 

Murdock’s office was pretty much the same as last time he was there, except for Karen who was absent. The door was open so he entered, calling out.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Good morning.”

 

He spun around to face Murdock who was standing in what acted as their kitchenette, a cup of coffee in his hand.

 

“Sorry I didn’t s-know you were there.”

 

Murdock nodded, a small smile stretching his lips.

 

“What can we do for you in this fine morning, Mr. Nelson?”

 

He seemed in a quieter mood than the last time Foggy had seen him, less smug and proud, but no less confident. And he _still_ looked so fucking good, which was _still_ completely unfair.

 

Foggy cleared his throat.

 

“I have Tully’s proposition for you.”

 

Murdock extended his hand for it, and Foggy handed it over. The man weighed the paper with a dry smile.

 

“It wouldn’t happen to be printed in Braille, would it?”

 

Foggy shuffled, a little uncomfortable.

 

“No, I’m sorry, I don’t think it is.”

 

Murdock shrugged.

 

“Then I’m afraid I can’t look at it today, I’ll have to wait for Miss Page to read for me, and she’s sadly out.”

 

Foggy simply nodded, not sure what to answer without sounding stupid. Murdock cocked his head.

 

“What do you think of this proposition? Is it fair?”

 

Foggy shook his head.

 

“I am contractually obligated to agree to whatever my client proposes and thinks his best. However, to be honest, I wouldn’t know, I haven’t seen it yet.”

 

Murdock frowned.

 

“How so? Surely he consulted his lawyers before sending it to us.”

 

Foggy snorted.

 

“The important ones, sure. But I’m just the intern.”

 

Murdock stood there silently, even though Foggy could see his throat working. He was obviously about to say something, but was thinking better of it. After almost a minute, Foggy cracked.

 

“Well, I guess I’ll be going then. Have a good day.”

 

He turned away, half hoping, for some reason, that Murdock would call him back. He didn’t.

 

 

OOOOOOOOO

 

The same night, Foggy went out on the roof. He wasn’t really expecting the Devil to show up, hoping he was still recuperating. However if he was up and about, he might as well talk to him.

 

All in all, he wasn’t surprised when a hand dropped on his shoulder, despite hearing no sound.

 

“A bell, I swear, one day I’ll get you a bell.”

 

The Devil laughed, and he was close enough that Foggy could feel the warm air against the side of his face.

 

“The Jingling Devil of Hell’s Kitchen doesn’t sound as good.”

 

Foggy rolled his eyes as he turned around and a step back, not to end up chest to chest with the man. There was a warmth in his voice that did things to Foggy he didn’t want to think about.

 

“At least the whole world would see you for the dork you are.”

 

The Devil smiled at that, wide and toothy. Foggy swatted at him.

 

“I found something on your Fisk.”

 

Instantly, the man was sharper. Foggy saw him shift from the relaxed dork he had met recently to the dark and dangerous fighter he had seen fight in the dark alleys. Yet he didn’t feel threatened or uncomfortable. It was amazing what patching up someone while they were in their underwear could do to your attitude around them.

 

“He has had a fuck ton of dealing with my firm. There’s at least a dozen entries on him in our database once I dug a bit around, but there all restricted to the higher circle. I’d need a username and a password to get that and I’m not that good.”

 

The Devil nodded grimly.

 

“I’ll see what I can do with that. Thank you so much, Foggy.”

 

It was the first time he used his name without being half dead, and Foggy couldn’t help but shiver.

 

“Anytime, dude. I’m just really glad you’re better.”

 

The Devil huffed, voice intense and heavy, the warmth decupled from earlier.

 

“Yeah, I’m better.”

 

Suddenly, the silence was full of expectations, and Foggy was frozen in his spot as the Devil seemed to come to a decision. He walked toward him slowly, until they were chest to chest, their face no more than two inches apart. His two hands came to frame Foggy’s face, holding him delicately to leave him all the leeway he would need to take a step back. Not that Foggy had the brain power to even consider doing so.

 

When the Devil leaned in, Foggy met him halfway. The kiss was soft and warm and so good. It was dry, nothing but lips on lips, but it was comforting and solid. Yet, when they split to breathe, and Foggy’s brain rebooted, he found himself taking a step back.

 

“I can’t. I’m sorry.”

 

The Devil looked as dazed and confused as Foggy, arms falling to hang uselessly by his sides.

 

“Foggy?”

 

“I can’t, I’m sorry. I can’t do _this_ with you without knowing your name and who you are.”

 

The other man let out what could almost be a sob, if he was any less controlled, and Foggy almost changed his mind. However, he couldn’t do this to himself.

 

“I can be your friend. But I can’t be … _more…_ without having ways to contact you, without being able to call you by your name. I can’t be more when I know next to nothing about you.”

 

There was a long devastating silence, before the Devil visibly forced himself to speak.

 

“I understand.”

 

God, he sounded wrecked, and Foggy hated that he had done this to him. He wanted to scream, to tell him that this was so easy to solve, that he only need to take of the mask, or give Foggy his phone number. But he didn’t, he simply stood there, sounding like someone had stabbed him. Foggy wanted to hug him, but he was pretty sure it wouldn’t help. Besides, it wouldn’t fix the bleeding wound he was feeling blooming in his chest.

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

The man shook his head violently.

 

“No, it’s my fault. You’re right. I was too forward and I’ve got no right to ask this from you.”

 

Foggy swallowed.

 

“Please don’t disappear forever? I like having you around, it’s just, not like that.”

 

The Devil nodded, and very deliberately reached out to squeeze Foggy’s arm.

 

“Good night, Foggy.”

 

“Good night, buddy.”

 

And with that, he was gone, leaving Foggy to stare at his ceiling for hours, as sleep eluded him.

 

 

OOOOOOOOOO

 

 

It turned out that Tully had agreed to the term set by Ms. Cardenas and her lawyer, and as such, all parties met a week later at Landman and Zach for the final signature. Foggy really didn’t feel like going, cranky due to a lack of sleep after spending every night of the week on the roof of his building waiting for the Devil to show up.

 

He never did.

 

So no, Foggy didn’t feel like going to face Murdock and his own firm. The only people in that room he could perhaps stomach were Ms. Cardenas and Karen, and it would be in bad taste for him to suck up to the victim he had worked against up until that moment.

 

So he hid in a corner, his smile looking only a little forced. From this vantage point, he couldn’t help but notice that Murdock didn’t look as solid as usual. He was still smooth and charming, but he wasn’t as assured, as immovable as he had been previously. He looked exhausted, and Foggy felt a twinge of satisfaction that he didn’t get much rest lately either, though what could trouble someone like Murdock, Foggy couldn’t fathom.

 

After the ink had dried, and that everyone had patted themselves on the back, Murdock receiving his fair share of praises from the other lawyers and probably a few job offers, they started to talk about going for drinks. A junior came up to invite Foggy to go with them for the first time, and he decided that what the hell, getting smashed was the best idea he had heard in months, especially if someone else was paying.

 

It was only once he got to the bar with the others, that he noticed that someone had also invited Murdock, as the man dropped in the seat in front of Foggy at the table they invaded. Foggy didn’t really want the man to see him drunk, but one hand he wouldn’t really _see_ him, and on the other they weren’t working against each other anymore, so who the fuck cared about what Matthew Murdock thought of Foggy Nelson?

 

Foggy did, for some reason, but he was willing to ignore it in favor of free alcohol.

 

Which was how he ended up four hours later coming back from the bathroom, pleasantly tipsy because a Nelson can hold his liquor, thank you very much, and almost tackled Matthew Murdock who was hiding in the dark corner.

 

Instead he stopped beside him, staring at the man for a moment. He wasn’t drunk either, but he was definitely not sober, despite having only three drinks from what Foggy could tell. The man was a lightweight, which was hilarious given how controlled and smooth he usually was. Foggy leaned forward a little.

 

“Everything okay, Mr. Murdock?”

 

The other man seemed to pause for a moment.

 

“Matt, please. And your colleagues were being a bit rowdy.”

 

Foggy smiled and leaned forward to get a view of their table, where the others were shouting about something. The movement had the added benefit of pressing his side to Matt’s, and god the man was hiding some serious muscle under his suits.

 

He smiled wider, despite the other man not being able to see it.

 

“Well, Matt, what should we do about it?”

 

He dragged out the ‘m’ of Matt’s name, and he felt the other man shivering against him. Foggy turned to watch him. Matt’s cheeks were definitely pinker than moments before, and Foggy suddenly realized the man might be attracted to him as well. He pondered letting it go for a second, after all he still hadn’t sorted this thing with the Devil, but on the flip side, a good fuck with a very attractive man he’d probably never see again could be just what he needed.

 

He stepped around Matt so that he was facing the man, hiding the view and some of the noise of the rest of the bar.

 

“You haven’t answered me.” He kept his tone playful, leaving plenty of space for Matt to tell him to get lost.

 

He didn’t though. He licked his lips, swallowing thickly.

 

“You don’t have to do anything about it.”

 

Foggy shrugged, leaning just a little closer, forward like he would never dare to be sober.

 

“What if I want to?”

 

Matt licked his lips, and seemed at a loss for words, which made Foggy stupidly proud. He didn’t look opposed to the direction this was taking, though, so Foggy pressed forward and kissed him.

 

It was dry and soft for a second before Matt yielded, melting against Foggy, opening his mouth. God, he was a good kisser. Their tongues slid against each other in a way that was driving Foggy crazy, and he almost whined when they had to break apart to breathe. Matt tried to say something, something that might be “I don’t think this is a good idea”. While Foggy would let him go if he asked, he really didn’t want to. So he whined a soft “Matt”, pleading and lustful. Suddenly, Matt’s mouth was back on his, stronger, more demanding, and scorching hot.

 

The second time they came back for air, Foggy gasped “My place is a few streets down.” Matt growled “Mine is closer”. And with that he was dragged out in the streets, and even the fresh air couldn’t sober him up as Matt’s arm twisted around his.

 

It was really closer, but by the time they got there, Foggy was at the end of his patience. As soon as the door was opened, he claimed Matt’s mouth again. Not to be outmatched, the other man pressed him against the wall. Every time they broke apart, there was nothing but two litanies of their names, Matt saying Foggy’s like it was something holy, and Foggy unbelieving of how much Matt seemed to unravel each time he heard his own.

 

It took them almost fifteen minutes to get to the bed, groping at each other, kissing like they would die if they stopped. Foggy pushed Matt on the mattress, climbing after him, and setting to work on his shirt, because he wanted to get his lips on the chest he could feel through the fabric, and he wanted it five minutes ago. After what felt like an eternity, he succeeded, throwing the garment aside and he pulled back to admire his handiw-

 

 

 

Foggy felt like all the air had left his lungs. On Matt’s torso were stretching two long scars, one over his ribs, the other across his chest. Both were barely healed, still pink and fresh. Both bore the marks of recently removed sutures. Two cuts Foggy had stitched himself, a week and some ago.

 

It took for some time for Matt to notice something was wrong, and even longer for his hazed brain to connect the dots, but when he did, he became more rigid than Foggy even knew was humanly possible.

“Foggy-” His voice was faint and desperate.

 

“You asshole.”

 

“Foggy, please-”

 

“YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!”

 

Matt flinched at his shout, but still reached a hand, desperately grabbing at him.

 

“Foggy, please, let me explain-”

 

“Are you really fucking blind?”

 

Matt frowned.

 

“Of course I am. Foggy I wouldn’t-“

 

“You wouldn’t what? Lie to me? Really?”

 

“I never lied to you.”

 

“You lied to me every time you saw me and pretended you didn’t know ME! Answer me, are you blind?”

 

“Yes, I am.”

 

“I’ve seen you fight, Murdock.”

 

“And I do it without seeing. Everything else, my hearing, my scent, my taste, my touch, they’re all strong enough that I don’t need to see.”

 

“So you play super hero at night and help old ladies with their apartments during the day.”

 

Matt swallowed and bunched up the sheets in his fists, his knuckles white.

 

“You knew what I do.”

 

Foggy started pacing the room.

 

“No I didn’t, Murdock. That’s the whole FUCKING point. I knew the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, I knew what he did and I thought he was my friend.”

 

“I am.”

 

“Really? Because after you’ve refused to give me your name, you’ve disappeared for a week, and now you want to bang me again while still not telling me who you are. After I have specifically told you I couldn’t do that. That I didn’t want that.”

 

Matt’s face crumbled, and the sheets started ripping in his grip.

 

“You were the one to start it tonight.”

 

Foggy whirled around and threw an accusatory finger at Matt that the blind man might just be able to perceive.

 

“Yes, but you were the FUCKER that held all the cards. You knew the whole situation, and you decided to go with it anyway.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“Really? REALLY! I said I didn’t want to have sex with the Devil, so you decide to give it a try as a lawyer, to see if you could get to fuck me that way? Did you even care about me at all in this whole shitstorm?”

 

Matt curled on himself like something had just tried to rip his heart out, and his expression went from scared and remorseful to full blown panic and guilt so deep _Foggy_ could feel it.

 

“Of c- Foggy I care about you – I care m- I just. Foggy I’m so sorry.”

 

Matt was openly crying, face red and blotchy and his features twisted almost beyond recognition. The worst thing was, Foggy believed him. Foggy believed that Matt was profoundly and completely sorry. Foggy also knew it wasn’t what he needed from him. Not at this point.

 

“Why didn’t you, then. Why didn’t you push me away? Made up some kind of excuse, and got the hell out?”

 

Matt let out something that might be a sob, or simply a very painful laugh.

 

“I couldn’t.”

 

“Bullshit.”

 

“I _couldn’t._ I can’t push you away. I want you. I want you so much, and I’m selfish, and I couldn’t stop you because I wasn’t _strong_ enough.”

 

Foggy wasn’t aware that such a level of self-hatred was possible but the violence with which Matt tore at himself was terrible.

 

“I know it’s wrong. I know it’s terrible. I hate that I need you so bad after so little time.”

 

Foggy almost laughed, because no one, especially Matt Murdock or the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, would want Foggy Nelson that bad after talking to him barely over half a dozen time. Whatever Murdock’s game was, he wasn’t playing it. He finally found his voice back, and couldn’t help but ask the question that had plagued him for the past week.

 

“If you _needed_ me so much you couldn’t help yourself, why did you leave? Why didn’t you tell me last week? Why couldn’t you simply tell me who you were? If you wanted me that much, why didn’t you? It’s all I asked from you.”

 

He couldn’t help the break in his voice, no matter how much he hated it. Matt swallowed.

 

“You hated me -- Matt Murdock. You thought I was an asshole. And you like –liked- the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen. I couldn’t compromise what we had.”

 

Foggy snorted, ugly and a bit too sharp.

 

“Good job on that one, Buddy. Really, congratulation. And fuck you by the way. That’s a bullshit excuse. You can hear my fucking _heartbeat_ , you knew I didn’t hate you, not really. Give me the real fucking reason, tell me the truth or you won’t see me again.”

 

Matt folded on himself, his breathes shivering and wet.

 

“You don’t know. You don’t understand. You knowing, about all of it, it puts so many people in danger. You, Karen, everyone I know. They can use all of you to get to me. If you know all of me, you’re a target for all of them, for them to hurt you to get to me. I couldn’t do that to you. If you knew nothing, you weren’t useful. If you only knew the Devil, you were safer. I have to handle it alone. You deserve better than that.”

 

“And you don’t?”

 

“No.”

 

The way he spoke, Foggy almost felt as a priest receiving a confession, like Matt was baring his soul to him. It soothed him somewhat.

 

“So you’re basically a self-sacrificing masochist with low-esteem issues. Gotcha.”

 

Matt didn’t raised his head or move, but Foggy noticed how his shoulders seemed to loosen just a little bit since Foggy wasn’t shouting anymore. He rubbed his eyes again, feeling so much older than he was.

 

“Is there anything else?”

 

Matt’s head went slowly up, confused frown over his blood shot eyes. Foggy couldn’t even remember when he had removed his glasses.

 

“Anything else?”

 

Foggy shrugged.

 

“Anything else I should know? Any other piece of this fucked up puzzle that you have that I can’t see?”

 

Matt actually took a moment to think about it before shaking his head, which Foggy appreciated.

 

“Right. Awesome.”

 

With that he went to exit the room, not leaving any time for Matt to answer. Just as he was about to exit, he spied Matt’s cellphone on the coffee table. Without thinking, he grabbed it and texted himself.

 

He wasn’t sure what he was going to do, but there was at least one possible future scenario in which he wanted to be able to contact Matt.

 

He pretended he couldn’t hear the broken “Foggy”s that followed him out of the door.

 

 

OOOOOOOOOO

 

 

If he had thought the week before had been hard, Foggy had to say that the one that followed was complete and absolute shit. He was furious at Matt for letting them get all tangled without trying to fix it. He was furious at Matt for hiding so much. He was furious at Matt for how much he hated and hurt himself, because even for the brief time they had known each other, Foggy could tell he was a pretty great guy, when he wasn’t a lying bastard.

 

He was frustrated at himself for thinking that alcohol and a one night stand would solve anything. What a load of bullshit that was.

 

Thankfully the case with Ms. Cardenas was truly dealt with, and no one would force Foggy to see Matt Motherfucking Murdock before he wanted to.

 

The Devil was exceptionally active lately. Every morning, reports of his new targets made the front page of the papers. He seemed to focus more around the financial district now, Foggy’s insight dragging him out of the back alleys of Hell’s Kitchen.

 

That’s why Foggy wasn’t entirely surprised when, a few days after he’d last seen Matt, a man named Wilson Fisk called a press conference to present himself to the public.

 

Foggy was pretty sure this wasn’t the result Matt wanted, to have the man present himself as a savior of the city, but on the other hand, it was easier to attack a visible target.

 

At Landman and Zach, though, now that they could openly talk about it, they finally decided to open an actual file on the man, with attorneys appointed to him full time. For some reason, that seem to include Foggy. He didn’t understand it, but figured they needed someone to refill their coffee as well.

 

It did give him a chance to copy the least savory of Fisk’s documents, to maybe communicate to Matt at a later date. He might not be in the best of terms with the man personally, but he had to acknowledge that there was something fishy about Fisk, and the Devil was probably the only one who could do something about it.

 

In hindsight, Foggy probably should have been more careful about his corporate espionage.

 

Exactly a week after his second fallout with Matt/The Devil, he left the firm once again well after dark, after a boring day of coffee making, filing documents and nodding at whatever the senior attorney proposed. In short, he was the perfect little intern, which was definitely starting to grate his nerves.

 

Perhaps it was the exhaustion, the restlessness, or simply having too much on his mind for too long, but he didn’t notice the shady dudes until they were on top of him, one of them pressing a weird smelling cloth to his mouth and nose.

 

He woke up in a dark warehouse, tied to a chair, very Hollywood spy movie style. Sadly he wasn’t a Hollywood spy, and this wasn’t a situation he was trained for. At all.

 

Especially since standing in front of him was none other than Wilson Fisk, who looked very intimidating in person. Seriously, that dude was _ripped._

Foggy tried for his more charming smile.

 

“Good evening, Mr. Fisk. What can I do for you today?”

 

The man simply smiled.

 

“Where is the man in the mask?”

 

Foggy sighed. Of course this was about Matt.

 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

Fisk smiled wider.

 

“You and he have been seen together in a last two different occasions. And I heard from reliable sources that you have copying and leaking out documents pertaining to my affairs from Landman and Zach. Presumably to transfer to him. Let me ask again. Where is the man in the mask?”

 

Foggy shook his head.

 

“No idea, big guy.”

 

Fisk nodded, and suddenly slapped one big hand to the side of Foggy’s face. Foggy was actually surprised he didn’t break his neck, and he needed a few seconds to put his brain the right side up again.

 

“You know, I’m not really useful to you with my head severed from my body.”

 

Fisk smirked.

 

“You’re not really useful to me if you don’t talk. I could kill you, Mr. Nelson, and the man in the mask would come after me all gun blazing. Talk, and you live. Don’t, and you die. It’s all the same to me.”

 

Foggy swallowed.

 

“Tempting offer, big guy, but I’ll have to say no thank you.”

 

Fisk punched him in the stomach.

 

“Give me his name.”

 

Foggy shook his head.

 

“Don’t know. Never told me.”

 

Fisk punched him in the face.

 

“Where does he operate from?”

 

Foggy rasped.

 

“He never invited me over, sorry.”

 

Fisk punched him again.

 

“Who does he care about?”

 

Foggy shook his head, ears ringing too much for him to speak. Fisk sighed and stepped aside, talking in a low voice with one of his goons.

 

“Well, Mr. Nelson, since you obviously know nothing of worth to use, I’m afraid this is all the time we can afford you. Any last word?”

 

Foggy finally saw the blade in Fisk’s hand and whimpered. He wasn’t going to give up Matt because he’d hate himself for the rest of his life, but that didn’t mean he was happy about dying.

 

That’s when he heard it. The muffled sound of fists hitting body and head being smashed against walls. Fisk turned away from Foggy, the knife in his hand up, ready to defend himself against the more threatening target.

 

Foggy saw very little of the actual fight, head spinning too much for him to make much sense of what was happening. He only knew Matt won because a few minutes later, the Devil was in front of him, untying his limbs from the chair.

 

“Foggy? Foggy, come on, talk to me!”

 

“I’m fine, I’m okay…”

 

Matt helped him up, balancing him despite being injured himself. Foggy could see a few cuts dripping blood sluggishly, and he certainly had some nasty bruises, but he seemed solid as he held Foggy. That was when Foggy saw Fisk’s motionless body on the floor.

 

“Is he –“

 

“He’s alive.”

 

There was a sharpness, some steel, in Matt’s voice that suggested that it had been a close call.

 

“Okay, good. Good job, buddy.”

 

He patted Matt’s shoulder, momentarily forgetting that he was mad at him because holy shit, he was alive.

 

“Foggy, are you still with me?”

 

He must have drifted off, because Matt’s voice was urgent and concerned.

 

“Mostly, yeah, why?”

 

Matt sighed.

 

“This is our chance to throw Fisk in jail, Foggy. You need to call the police, ask for Brett, he’s clean. Tell them you were abducted by Fisk and tortured for information. Tell them the Devil helped you but he left right after.”

 

Foggy had already taken his phone out, and he frowned at Matt.

 

“You’re leaving me?”

 

Matt made a choked noise, before shaking his head.

 

“Only when the police gets here, just far enough not to be seen.”

 

That sounded reasonable, and so Foggy dialed 911, asking for Brett and saying exactly what Matt had told him.

 

For the few minutes afterward they stood together, Foggy leaning on Matt while his head sorted itself back in working order. Matt didn’t seem to mind at all, one arm around Foggy’s shoulders, holding him steady and close. Foggy cleared his throat.

 

“We need to talk.”

 

Matt lowered his head.

 

“I know.”

 

Foggy pursed his lips.

 

“I mean like a real talk, where all parties are calm and telling the truth. Not one of them in hysterics and the other acting like a better looking Batman.”

 

Matt snorted a laugh at that, shaking his head.

 

“I can do that.”

 

Foggy nodded, looking away.

 

“They’ll probably take me to the hospital, make sure my head is still functioning and everything, but meet me at my place afterward?”

 

Matt nodded gravely.

 

“I’ll be there.”

 

That was when Foggy heard the sirens. Matt probably knew they were arriving for a few minutes, but only then did he let Foggy go with a pat on his shoulder. A beat later he was gone, hiding in a dark corner like the nerd that he was.

 

The police made fast work, not wanting to stretch the procedures any longer than necessary. Fisk was a big fish, and they wanted to make sure he didn’t slip through their fingers.

 

Foggy was predictably taken to the hospital, and didn’t make it back to his place with a clean bill of health before nine the following morning. He called in sick at the office as he entered his apartment, not exactly expecting Matt to still be waiting for him. After all, the other man had a job as well.

 

Which didn’t seem to matter that much, because he was sitting on Foggy’s couch.

 

“How did you get in?”

 

Matt gestured to the window.

 

“You should lock them, it’s not safe.”

 

“Yeah, who knows what kind of weirdoes would climb three stories of flat walls to enter through an unlocked window to steal my kettle.”

 

Matt smiled a bit at that.

 

“I have no design toward your kettle.”

 

Foggy wagged a finger toward him.

 

“You should, it’s a pretty awesome kettle, family heirloom and all.”

 

Matt huffed a laugh.

 

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

 

Foggy settled himself in front of Matt.

 

“Okay, before we start spewing our feelings and all, I want to state for the record that your ‘I can’t tell you anything about myself or they’ll kidnap you and hurt you to get to me’ thing? It’s bullshit.”

 

Matt frowned at him.

 

“They did kidnap you.”

 

“Without knowing if I actually knew stuff or not. They didn’t even really care. They just wanted to hurt someone you knew.”

 

“So you’re saying I should never have talked to you at all.”

 

“No, you contrary asshole, I’m saying it didn’t matter if you gave me your name or showed your face, if what you really cared about was my wellbeing.”

 

Matt clenched his jaw.

 

“Of course I care about you, that’s why I should have left you alone. This is all my fault, Foggy.”

 

Foggy snorted mirthlessly.

 

“It’s nice to know you consider me a five years old.”

 

Matt was about to keep beating himself up, but stopped short.

 

“I beg your pardon?”

 

“You keep going like this whole mess his your fault, and trust me, a big part of it is, but Fisk beating me up? It all goes back to decisions I made, Murdock. I made the choices, as a responsible and intelligent adult, and you blaming yourself for it? A bit infantilising.”

 

Matt looked confused.

 

“Foggy, I don’t think you understand…”

 

“Fisk targeted me because I talked to you Matt. Not because we were almost – _something,_ or because he actually thought I knew something about you. Because we were seen together. Which could have happened the first night, when _I_ decided to try and help you, or the second time, when _I let you_ follow me, or that time _I_ fished you out of the garbage and _I_ patched you up. They were my choices Matt, and I knew what could happen because I am not a _child._ You’re a vigilante who beats up criminals. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out a few of those could take offence and hit back. I’m a lawyer for fuck’s sake.So please stop beating yourself up for this and being insulting.”

 

Matt stayed silent for a few minutes before nodding, shoulders unwinding a little. Foggy smiled and nudged his shoulder.

 

“Not that is was a pleasant experience, but hey. When life gives you lemon, make lemonade or whatever.”

 

Matt huffed with a smile.

 

“I don’t like lemonade.”

 

Foggy rolled his eyes, going to the kitchen to get them water, and maybe a little to give himself space to regain _some_ composure.

 

“Of course, you don’t. You’re allergic to the good things in life. Pray tell me, Oh Great Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, what do you do with your lemons? Throw them at bad guys?”

 

Matt took the glass Foggy is handing him without turning his head.

 

“Something like that.”

 

There was a brief silence, before Matt seemed to come to a decision, purposefully setting his glass on the coffee table and turning to face Foggy, expression earnest and open.

 

“I’m not allergic to all good things in life.”

 

Foggy groaned, glaring at the man, wondering if he could feel it or something.

 

“Really? Could have fooled me, the way you went about it.”

 

“I’m really sorry, Foggy.” Matt grimaced.

 

Foggy sighed.

 

“I know, Matt. You want to know something else? Not really useful at this point.”

 

Matt tensed, never facing away from Foggy, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

 

“I want to be your friend. I thought we were doing great. Before. I think we still can. But I need to know you’ll be square with me. I don’t need to know all your dark secrets, everything you do at night or anything. But I need you to tell me the important stuff. I need us to be on equal footing.”

 

Matt was already nodding eagerly, accepting everything Foggy offered automatically. For a second, Foggy wondered if he could actually make the man spill all his dark secrets.

 

“I swear, Foggy. I swear I’ll tell you. Everything I can.”

 

Foggy nodded.

 

“I also want you to accept, really accept, that whatever could happen to me, in relation with the Devil thing? I have accepted, and is as much my fault as yours.”

 

Matt pinched his lips, but eventually nodded again.

 

“Alright.”

 

Foggy smiled at him, and stood up.

 

“Great, now the sappy stuff is out of the way, you want beer?”

 

Matt chuckled, cocking an eyebrow at him.

 

“It’s ten in the morning.”

 

Foggy gestured genially.

 

“It’s five somewhere in the world, and I think we deserve some kind of threat for the stunning adult conversation we’ve just had.”

 

Matt laughed again.

 

“Okay, fine, I think I could use a beer.”

 

After their first sip, Foggy suddenly realised something.

 

“Oh, buddy, do you need me to look at your injuries?”

 

Matt shook his head.

 

“No, it’s fine.”

 

Foggy punched him on the shoulder.

 

“We agreed on this dude!”

 

Matt chuckled.

 

“I swear, it’s fine, it’s already taken care of.”

 

“Did you go to the hospital?”

 

“I don’t do hospitals, Foggy.”

 

Foggy leaned closer to look at him properly.

 

“Then who took care of it, Murdock? If you did it yourself, I’m kicking your ass.”

 

“No, I’ve got a friend, Claire. She did it.”

 

Foggy leaned back with an exaggerated gasp.

 

“Did you cheat on my Magical Healing Hands, Murdock?”

 

Matt swatted at him.

 

“Your Magical Healing Hands were busy, Foggy.”

 

“I can’t believe, after all we’ve been through!”

 

“Claire’s a trained professional!”

 

Foggy paused.

 

“She’s a nurse, isn’t she?”

 

Matt looked away.

 

“You traded me for a hot nurse, you ingrate!”

 

His tone was light and comical, but Matt’s answer was completely serious.

 

“I wouldn’t trade you for anything, Foggy.”

 

Foggy swallowed.

 

“That sounds awfully like vows, Matt.”

 

Matt didn’t answer. Foggy looked down.

 

“I want to be your friend. I am your friend. But I can’t do more. Not now, not until I’m sure.”

 

Matt looked up at that, a carefully contained hope dancing on the lines of his face.

 

“I know. I understand.”

 

Foggy cleared his throat.

 

“However, you can come over when you want. Especially if you need someone to patch you up. I’m not a hot nurse, but I’ll make sure to have beer.”

 

Matt turned to him with a shy genuine smile that almost took Foggy’s breathe away.

 

They both jumped when Matt’s phone rang, chiming Karen’s name. He went out to answer it, and came back, looking apologetic.

 

“I actually need to go to the office for this.”

 

Foggy simply waved him off.

 

“Hop along, buddy, I should probably get some sleep anyway.”

 

Matt smiled at him.

 

“Yeah, good idea.”

 

“See you around, then?”

 

“Yes. Good day, Foggy.”

 

“Good day yourself, Matty.”

 

OOOOOOOOO

 

Foggy wasn’t sure what to expect, but they quickly fell in a pattern. Every few days, the Devil would come to knock at his window, and Foggy would let him in, watching as he melted back into Matt Murdock. Sometimes he needed to be patched up, but most of the time not.

 

Mostly they talked.

 

OOOOOOOOO

 

The night was a bad one, with Matt sporting all possibilities of bruise coloration. Foggy was applying ointment to the worse ones.

 

“Did you know my mom wanted me to be butcher? To take the family business. She’s proud that I’m a lawyer and all, but I think she regrets not getting free ham.”

 

“Why didn’t you?”

 

“Told you, I wanted to save the world. Not much of that in the Butchery business.”

 

“Saving the world is overrated.”

 

Foggy nudged his knee gently.

 

“At this point I’d settle for the city.”

 

OOOOOOOOO

 

“My father was a boxer.”

 

This time, Matt had showed up looking pristine. Whoever he caught must have been really bad fighters, because he didn’t even have a bruise to show for it.

 

“He was?”

 

“Battlin’ Jack Murdock.”

 

“Was he the one who showed you, you know?”

 

“No, he never wanted me to fight. He wanted me to study and use my head rather than my fist.”

 

“Well, you became a pretty kickass lawyer.”

 

“Yeah. Got half of it right.”

 

OOOOOOOOO

 

 

“I left Landman and Zach.”

 

Matt had been pretty out of it, that night. Not anymore hurt than ever before, but something obviously weighted on his mind. However, he snapped back to Foggy with a speed that was a bit flattering.

 

“You did?”

 

“Yeah, after the whole kidnapping and Fisk going to jail because of me, I felt like I overstayed my welcome.”

 

“That’s sucks. I’m sorry buddy.”

 

“Matt…”

 

“I’m saying that as a generally statement that the situation is shitty. I’m not blaming myself.”

 

“Uhu.”

 

“Okay, I’m not blaming myself overly much.”

 

“Yeah, that sounds about right, you fucking catholic ninja.”

 

“I should never have told you about the Catholicism.”

 

“I’m sorry, but a catholic ninja lawyer sounds like the beginning of a bad joke.”

 

They both laughed, and Foggy couldn’t help but admire the shape of Matt’s mouth as it stretched into indecent shapes. Fuck, did the man make it difficult for him to stick to his guns. Matt turned to look at him, with this earnest puppy look that meant that Foggy was already on board with anything he was going to say.

 

“You know, there’s an empty office at my place.”

 

Foggy froze, uncertain but seriously considering the idea.

 

“You think we could make this work?”

 

Matt shrugged like this wasn’t a big deal to him, not fooling Foggy for a second.

 

“We have so far, haven’t we?”

 

Foggy looked away with a goofy smile.

 

“Why the hell not. Can’t be any worse than working for Fisk.”

 

Matt had a wide smile of his own as he held beer for Foggy to toast.

 

“Amen to that.”

 

They both took a swig, and Foggy spoke dreamily.

 

“Murdock and Nelson, attorneys at law.”

 

Matt shook his head.

 

“Nelson and Murdock. Sounds better.”

 

Foggy turned to beam at him.

 

“You think?”

 

Matt nodded again.

 

“Yeah. Can’t see for shit but my hearing is spectacular.”

 

Foggy burst out laughing, quickly followed by Matt.

 

OOOOOOOO

 

Working together changed everything and not much at the same time. Everything, since they spent a lot more time together, which was awesome because Foggy discovered that Matthew Murdock the lawyer was pretty great to be around when you’re not working against him. And they made a hell of a team, the two of them and Karen.

 

Foggy finally got to help people too, which was pretty great for his soul and peace of mind, if not for his wallet.

 

It changed very little, though, because Matt would still show up at least twice a week at his window high from beating people up and in various state of injury.

 

“I think Karen’s got a crush on you, Matty.”

 

Matt laughed. He was holding a bag of frozen peas to his head, and Foggy had applied generous amounts of ointment to his torso, but he was otherwise happy and well into his second beer, which for the lightweight he was, meant that he was getting tipsy.

 

“No, she doesn’t.”

 

Foggy rolled his eyes.

 

“Which one of us has the eyes in this relationship, Murdock?”

 

“I can hear heartbeats, Foggy. That’s the kind of things I can tell.”

 

Foggy frowned at him.

 

“So she isn’t attracted to you?”

 

Matt hummed.

 

“Being physically attracted to someone isn’t the same as liking them.”

 

“So she _was_ attracted to you.”

 

Matt blushed.

 

“A lot of people are attracted to me.”

 

“Oh you poor soul, how can you endure such a torture.” Foggy groaned.

 

Matt chuckled, pushing Foggy playfully.

 

“I’m saying like it is! You were attracted to me, and you thought I was an asshole. Karen isn’t into me. From what I could tell she’s seeing an old friend of mine, Marci Stahl.”

 

Foggy almost choked on his beer.

 

“MARCI?”

 

Matt was obviously confused.

 

“You know her?”

 

“She worked with me at Landman and Zach.”

 

Matt frowned.

 

“I thought she was freelance.”

 

Foggy shrugged.

 

“She is. She quit at the same time as me. She said the pay wasn’t good enough to risk getting kidnapped by our clients.”

 

Matt nodded gravely.

 

“Good for her.”

 

“Yeah, good for Karen too. I heard she’s good in bed.”

 

Matt simply nodded. Foggy took another gulp of his beer.

 

“For the record, I don’t think you’re an asshole anymore.”

 

He didn’t say that he was still attracted to him, however, but he didn’t really need too. It was the kind of things Matt knew, after all. The other man sent him a goofy smile anyway.

 

“Yeah, I know.”

 

OOOOOOOOOO

 

“It feels good, sometimes.”

 

This was the worse night since Fisk went to jail. Foggy was hard at work, while Matt did a very good impression of a jelly fish on the couch, face tortured and body limp.

 

“What does?”

 

“Hurting them.”

 

Foggy looked at him for a second.

 

“And you hate yourself for it.”

 

“What kind of man enjoys hurting other people?”

 

“They’re bad people, Matty. They’ve hurt far more people than you ever could.”

 

“Does it matter?”

 

“Would it feel good to hurt innocent people?”

 

“No.”

 

The tone is completely final, convinced, and heavy.

 

“Than yes, it matters. You have issues, Matt, we all do. But you mean well and you’re doing good.”

 

“Foggy…”

 

“You are. We try to get them through the law, but sometimes the world is shit and we need dorks in mask to help us.”

 

Matt huffed, but with a tiny grin.

 

“Thank you, Foggy.”

 

There was nothing to be done but keep on patching him up, hoping he wouldn’t one day run out of skin to sew back together.

 

OOOOOOOOOOO

 

“Pour, oh, pour the pirate sherry, Fill, O fill the pirate glass!”

 

They had just won their first big case as a team, and Foggy managed to convince Matt to take a night off. The two of them and Karen had invaded Matt’s apartment, it being the bigger one, after having bought enough alcohol to get the three of them truly smashed.

 

Four hours later, Karen was curled on the floor, laughing so hard she had to hold her stomach, while Foggy did his best to deafen all of them with his off key singing.

 

He was holding Matt’s shoulders, because if the man was to be too boring to join in with Foggy, then he would have to suffer first hand, super hearing and all.

 

“And, to make us more than merry, Let the pirate bumper pass!”

 

Matt tried to push him away, but it was half hearted at best, and the next moment he settle for hiding his face into Foggy’s shoulder, giggling adorably.

 

“For today our pirate 'pre-” Karen did a valiant effort to help Foggy, but ended up bursting back into laughter before she could finish the line.

 

Foggy gestured wildly at her with the arm that didn’t presently hold Matt.

 

“See, Murdock? That’s the spirit. Karen, A for effort, C for execution.”

 

Matt only giggle harder, and Karen bravely got to her feet with a little curtsy.

 

“Thank you, Master Nelson. I think I’ll leave for a moment, though.”

 

Her steps were only a little wobbly as she made her way to the bathroom. It took him and Matt some time to calm down, but neither of them moved away.

 

“Matty?”

 

“Hm?”

 

“This is nice. I like this.”

 

Since his face was still mashed into Foggy’s shoulder, he could actually _feel_ Matt’s smile.

 

“I like it too, Foggy.”

 

OOOOOOOOO

 

It had been almost three months since Foggy had been abducted, but he fit so easily with his new job and Karen and _Matt_ that it felt like a lifetime.

 

It was a quiet night, and Matt had come back earlier than usual, with no injuries to report. They were seated on the couch, listening to a movie on Foggy’s laptop, one of those with video description. It was nice that they could, you know, watch something that Matt could follow, but it also meant that Foggy didn’t need to actually watch the screen. Therefore he was free to set his eyes on the only interesting thing left in the room, Matt.

 

God, the man was beautiful. Foggy wasn’t one prone to poetic descriptions, but for Matt he could be. Now that he almost never wore his glasses when they were together, he often surprised himself by staring at Matt’s eyes for inappropriate length of time. Matt didn’t mind, it wasn’t as if he could tell where Foggy was looking specifically.

 

His mouth, too. It kept him up at night sometimes, remembering how Matt’s mouth felt on his, how soft and warm it was. The deep pink color and the gorgeous drop of it were sin itself, and sometimes Foggy had to physically restrain not to kiss him.

 

He hadn’t been ready yet, and he couldn’t tease Matt like that. Because he knew that Matt still wanted him. He felt it in the small touches on his arms and back, heard it in the soft words spoken at night, in the brilliant smiles Matt would give him sometimes. It was never forceful, never pushed for anything, but all of it assured that whenever Foggy wanted more, Matt would gladly give it.

 

It had been three months, and when Foggy looked at Matt that night, he saw the gorgeous, smart and kind man he had come to know, but he was also very aware of everything Matt had done for him, fighting against what was a second nature to him at this point; hiding himself, shouldering the weight of the world alone and pushing people away in an effort to protect them.

 

Matt never faltered, because he was a stubborn man at heart, he had decided that he wanted to keep Foggy around, despite not being entirely convinced he deserved to.

 

When Foggy looked at Matt that night, he realised that he did trust him. He _knew_ Matt, for better and for worse. Mostly for better.

 

“Matt?”

 

The blind man turned to face Foggy with a quiet smile.

 

“Yes?”

 

Before his nerves could get the better of him and convince him to wait a little longer still, Foggy leaned in and kissed Matt.

 

Matt’s lips were just as he remembered. The other man gasped when he realised what was happening, before melting into Foggy. They broke apart after a few seconds, keeping the kiss chaste.

 

“Foggy?”

 

“I’m ready, Matty.”

 

The noise Matt made could be described as nothing but a filthy moan, and both his hands came up to frame Foggy’s face, dragging him in. Foggy went willingly.

 

Their second kiss was filthy, Matt opening his lips to lick Foggy’s, and quickly they were savouring the slide of their tongues, exploring each other’s mouth.

 

They stayed on the couch for a few eternities, pressed as close as they could to each other, kissing like dying men. Both of them were steadily getting hard, but neither wanted to move apart enough to do something about it just yet.

 

Finally, it was Foggy who broke, because he’d fantasized about what having sex with Matthew Murdock felt like too often, and he needed to know for sure, now. He pulled away, despite Matt’s whine that went straight to his dick.

 

“Sorry, buddy, but I need both of us in a bed.”

 

Matt reached up to kiss him again.

 

“Don’t wanna move.”

 

Foggy ran his hand in Matt’s hair again, peppering his face with kisses.

 

“Tough luck, because you are seriously ripped, stud, and I’m not strong enough to pick you up.”

 

With that he stood, walking to his bedroom with uneven steps. When he turned around, Matt was still on the couch, looking like a lost puppy.

 

“You coming or what?”

 

Foggy’s voice seemed to snap him back to reality, and in a second Matt was by his side with more speed and accuracy than any person with a boner had a right to possess, especially a blind one.

 

When they fell on the bed, Matt somehow ended up on top, straddling Foggy’s hips. He quickly removed his shirt, and Foggy couldn’t help but gasp.

 

“Fuck Matt, congratulation on the abs. Pretty sure I can grate cheese on those.”

 

Matt snorted and let himself fall over Foggy, their lips colliding again. He whispered against his mouth.

 

“You’ve seen my abs before, Foggy.”

 

Foggy rolled his eyes.

 

“Excuse me for being impressed by the sex god in my bed, jeez.”

 

Matt simply laughed again, trailing his lips over Foggy’s face while he worked on the buttons of his shirt. Foggy groaned when Matt finally reached down to his neck, licking and sucking as he went down, paying special attention to his nipples.

 

Matt biting his nipples was a revelation, and Foggy was so busy pushing back into it that he didn’t notice he was finally naked until his dick came in contact with Matt’s pants.

 

“Fuck, fuck, Matt, MATT!”

 

He tugged on Matt’s hair hard enough that the men relented his attacks on Foggy’s nipple to come back up and kiss him again.

 

“Yes?”

 

Foggy started pawing at his waist band.

 

“Pants. Off.”

 

Matt groaned and complied.

 

“Greedy.”

 

“I’m not the only one getting naked tonight, Mr. Model.”

 

A few seconds later the pants and underwear were gone, and both of them groaned as the pressed into each other. Matt was pushing into Foggy as if trying to melt into him, hips rubbing helplessly, and he hid his face into the crook of Foggy’s neck.

 

Foggy wasn’t faring any better, hands cupping Matt’s stellar ass, rutting up into whatever friction he could find, kissing the side of Matt’s face.

 

“Tell me you’ve got stuff somewhere.” Matt’s voice was even deeper than usual, gravelly and only a little broken.

 

“Side table. Lube and condoms.”

 

Matt didn’t move, simply stretched one arm, and gathering what he needed. He made quick work of the lube and Foggy didn’t have time to suggest for himself to be on the receiving end because Matt was already working a finger in himself, gasping and biting at Foggy’s neck.

 

“God Matty, you don’t have t-“

 

“I want to, please, please Foggy. I need you, I need it, please-“

 

Foggy simply wrapped an arm around Matt, bringing him closer.

 

“Okay, Matt, it’s okay, Matt, I want it too. At least let me help.”

 

Matt shook his head violently, and from what Foggy could tell, added a second finger.

 

“No! I won’t last if you-“

 

He moaned over the end of his sentence, but Foggy got the gist of it, and fuck the idea of Matt coming on his fingers was an attractive one. But not tonight. Tonight they needed to be together, as much as humanly possible.

 

Matt was up to three fingers now, expression tortured in the best possible way. Foggy couldn’t help but babble.

 

“God you’re beautiful, Matt. So gorgeous. You take it so well, Matt, you don’t get it-“

 

He was cut off when Matt stretched to kiss him, hard, dirty and wet. He was distantly aware of a condom wrapper being opened, and he twitched a bit when Matt rolled it over his dick.

 

He was very present however, when Matt pushed himself up, one hand on Foggy’s chest to steady himself, the other holding Foggy’s dick as he lowered himself on it.

 

Foggy wanted to burn the image into his brain, to revisit wherever he felt like it, but when Matt bottomed down, he had to close his eyes, because it was all too much. If he looked at Matthew Motherfucking Murdock in all his glory riding his dick like he was born to do it, he would come on the spot.

 

And god was Matt good at it. Foggy could do little more than hold him steady as Matt rammed himself down, moaning and gasping sinfully as he did.

 

Foggy held up as long as he could, but at the end Matt’s tight heat was too much to handle and he came with a long moan, arching into Matt. Matt gasped above him, his hands gripping Foggy’s shoulders impossibly tight. Foggy was just about to go and jerking him off when he realised Matt was already coming in long stripes over Foggy stomach, without needing anyone to touch him.

 

They stayed like that for a moment before Foggy guided them both to lie on their side, face to face, and pulled out. Matt whined a little, but let Foggy tie up the condom and throw it in the general direction of the garbage can. He then used the last of his energy to lean over Matt and grab the wet wipes in his drawer.

 

He also dutifully ignored the way Matt kissed his chest lightly when it came over him. He wiped both of them clean, and finally dragged Matt back to him.

 

Matt pushed him on his back and settled himself on top, head on his chest and his arms wrapped around Foggy’s waist. Foggy chuckled and carded his fingers through his hair, looking down fondly at Matt.

 

“You okay there, buddy?”

 

Matt nodded and kissed the patch of skin closest to his mouth lightly.

 

“You’re comfortable.”

 

“That’s just a nice way to say soft and squishy.”

 

Matt tightened his hold on Foggy, pressing himself closer.

 

“Soft and squishy are good.” His voice was light and pouty.

 

Foggy laughed.

 

“The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, ladies and gentlemen.”

 

Matt shook his head, and Foggy frowned.

 

“What?”

 

“I’m not the Devil now.”

 

“Who are you, then?”

 

Matt burrowed himself deeper into Foggy’s chest.

 

“Your boyfriend?”

 

Foggy’s hand stopped petting Matt for a moment, startled, before he huffed and resumed.

 

“Yeah, that works too.”

 

Matt stayed silent, enjoying the moment, before he finally looked up at Foggy.

 

“You think we can make this work?”

 

Foggy smiled down at, only slightly goofy.

 

“We have so far haven’t we?”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the feedback on the first part! I hope you'll appreciate the follow up! Please kudo and comment if you do!


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